On Sunday we visited a museum and I noticed these keychains below for sale. I don't need a new keychain but it's a habit to always check for my name whenever I see personalized souvenirs. My name, Gina, isn't that common but it's also not THAT uncommon. Growing up I think there was exactly ONE time I found something with my name on it. It was a bicycle license plate from Kennedy Space Center in Florida. Oh hell yeah, you can bet I had my parents buy that for me. My sister has a name that was popular in the 70's so she had no problem finding all manner of flash-and-trash with her name on it. Anyway, I started checking the letter "G" section and noticed this:
I took this week off from work so my son and I could have a special "fun" week together. Also, it annoyed me on principle to pay for five days of summer camp but only get four (because of the Independence Day holiday being observed on Friday). I figured I might as well use the money that would have gone for camp tuition to do fun things. Today is only Tuesday and I've already blown through MUCH more money than if my son had just gone to camp. Oh well. I figure he's making good memories while he empties out my wallet. On Sunday we visited a museum and I noticed these keychains below for sale. I don't need a new keychain but it's a habit to always check for my name whenever I see personalized souvenirs. My name, Gina, isn't that common but it's also not THAT uncommon. Growing up I think there was exactly ONE time I found something with my name on it. It was a bicycle license plate from Kennedy Space Center in Florida. Oh hell yeah, you can bet I had my parents buy that for me. My sister has a name that was popular in the 70's so she had no problem finding all manner of flash-and-trash with her name on it. Anyway, I started checking the letter "G" section and noticed this: Really museum gift shop? Really!?! You don't have my name but you have Ethel, Eugene,Fred, Gladys, Harold and Hazel. I'm sorry to say this but I think your target keychain demographic is either now residing in cemeteries or too old to get out and visit museums. And they sure as hell aren't driving cars by this point. THEY DON'T NEED KEYCHAINS! If you'll notice they have both HARRY AND HAROLD! Give me a break. That's the same effin' name. I checked online and the peak popularity for the name Gladys was 1920. For some reason I find this annoying. In case you hadn't noticed. New topic-- on Monday I took my son to the zoo and we were there nearly the entire day. It was fun for the most part until pop-up afternoon thunderstorms made us take cover several times. Which also meant that the little waterpark that's inside the zoo was closed down for safety. Which meant that I packed around my son's swimsuit and a towel in my purse all day for nothing. Yay. Anyway, check out the expression on this goat's face: The zoo also had a rope-climbing obstacle course which my son wanted to try for the first time: After he started climbing I was like, "Oh look! It's the most precious thing in my life being kept alive by a nylon rope and a metal clip. And I paid good money for this." OK, I know that the risk of him being hurt was very small but it's kind of ironic that I've done everything in my power to keep him safe up until this point in his life only to let a stranger put a harness on him and let him loose on tightropes. He actually did fall off a beam once and the harness caught him. He scraped his ankle though and after that he was done climbing. Later I happened to think to ask him, "Was there a net under you?" He looked at me like I was crazy and said no. Future historians will find these old photos and think there was an entire generation of bad parents putting their kids into harm's way for no good reason. While my son was climbing, I took the opportunity to check my email on my phone and noticed this: My son will start second grade in August. I love the mental image of making his teacher's acquaintance with this horrible email address. The odds are good it would end up in her spam email and later there would be some confusion. I would say, "Check your spam folder. For some reason a lot of my emails end up there." Can you imagine the look on her face when she realized that "FastSnatch" referred to me? Then she would be extra nice to my son for the rest of the year because she would think that he has a terrible mother. (I have no intention of doing this, don't worry.). Just an FYI that since my normal routine is "off" this week, my posts may be sporadic and at odd times ('cause lazy). For example, I'm writing this while my son plays at an indoor trampoline facility. I'm one of several parents working on laptops. It probably looks like I'm doing real work. Little do people know that I'm posting insane nonsense on the interwebs. Next I'm going to get on my phone and start yelling, "Goddammit Carol, I told you I needed those reports my noon today! I don't care if you were at your Mom's chemo session this morning! One more incident like this and you're fired." (I won't actually be doing this. I just like to imagine making people feel awkward. Yes, I am aware that there's probably something wrong with me.).
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Sometimes the hardest part of writing a post is thinking up a title. My posts generally contain such random, unrelated topics that sometimes it's hard for me to summarize that nonsense with a short phrase. Today I had several options: "Pony Undies", "Trudy Maternity Pants" or "Kids are Dicks-- Part 7". I've already used the title "Kids are Dicks" at least once. I suppose I could just make it a running series. Anyway, read onward and you'll see why all of these titles could work. Now that summer is here and my son is out of school, we've been trying to do fun and also educational things with him on the weekends. We visited a museum last weekend and another one this weekend as well. Today I sent this email with the attached photo: "We asked my son what was his favorite part about visiting the museum and he said it was seeing this pony. Why you ask? Because that pony had a massive weiner that nearly touched the ground. It flopped over the place as he (the pony) walked. Unfortunately you can't see it in the photo. Everyone was laughing including my son but he noted, "That needs to be covered up. That's not appropriate." I'm going to create a new line of pony underwear and become a millionaire." I mean, I kind of get where my son is coming from. In your day to-day-life, you don't really see big dicks of any kind out and about in public. Not in my world at at least. It's kind of a rarity. After we got home and I started scrolling through the photos I took today, I noticed this one guy in a black t-shirt over and over again: Thanks random dude for ruining our photos. But hey-- rock on! \m/ OK, this next incident is embarrassing and reflects poorly on me. I am aware of this. While at the museum today we were part of a guided tour. Our tour guide was a young, sweet blonde girl. She was earnestly trying so hard to do a good job and kept asking every few minutes, "Does anyone have any questions?". No one ever did. After the fifth time of silence, I started to feel bad for the girl and tried to think of something, ANYTHING, to ask her. This is the question that popped into my brain: "Do you spit or swallow?" Isn't that horrible? Just to clarify, I did NOT say those words out loud. If I had, there would have been a shocked silence and then heads would haved turned and stared at me. People would have thought, "Did she say what I think she just said?". I can only imagine that the tour guide would have blushed and tried to do her best to ignore me. Maybe. Or maybe she would've called security and had me escorted from the premises. I don't know. I always live in fear that some day I'm just going to lose my shit and start saying anything and everything that pops into my brain. That will be a very, very bad day. I mentioned "Kids Are Dicks" as one of my potential titles for this post. Specifically I'm referring to my son. All the examples that I list below are from just this past week: We really do have a "No Farting at the Table" rule. I didn't write those words just to be funny. It's a necessary rule to be sure we eat meals like civilized people. However, violations to this rule are common. Over the years, my husband has occasionally told me, "Men are crude creatures". I didn't grow up around boys but I'm beginning to take his word for it. I sent out this email on Wednesday. "I just picked my son up from daycamp. Today the kids had a field trip to an aquatic center. My son told me that as soon as he got there he needed to use the bathroom. Apparently he clogged up the toilet when he took a giant shit. I asked him if he told anyone and he said no. Great. I should call and apologize to their maintenance guy. The parents were told to send in $5 so that the kids could buy snacks. My son's purchases consisted of four bags of Doritos and two popsicles. He did give one bag of Doritos to a friend. Both of these incidents shows that obviously he needs to work on his decision making skills." I told him he didn't have to spend every bit of the money I gave him. He told me, "But I wanted to". Sigh. People who know me know that one of my favorite nonsense names is "Tootie McTootypants". I sometimes call my boss this when I want to annoy him. Keep that in mind when you read this text string from Saturday: I really did want to entitle this "Trudy Maternity Pants" but I figured that based on the name alone, no one would click on it. I mean, I don't blame them. However, I myself would TOTALLY click on something called "Shitty McShittypants". Also,just so you know, my son did have a brief stint in time-out for saying "shit" but inside I was secretly proud of him. "Shitty McShittypants" may become my new favorite phrase.
A couple of weeks ago I was looking for something on the website Party City and I ran across this: Of course I immediately had to email this to friends and family with the comment: "I am unsure how to feel about this thing. My first thought is who is the intended market? Note the description of 'romantic encounters' with the fake boobs. I'm like, 'Jesus, you could put a guys eye out with those things as he undid your bra'." My friend Christopher replied: Then I remembered this: OK, there's no transition from fake boobs to hair barrettes. Sorry. There's just not. I recently bought this: The barrette is from the "1928 Company" in case you're wondering (link here). It arrived Wednesday in the mail so I wore it to work on Thursday: I couldn't believe that someone was hating on my hair dragons. What is wrong with people? My friend Alanna was more supportive: As an aside, I think red hair is beautiful. However, my mother didn't feel the same way and was horrified when she produced a red-haired child (thank you paternal grandmother!). She told me she was relieved that my hair turned darker as I got older. I guess it's a good thing my mom never had a red-headed stepchild. Because that kid may have indeed been treated like a red-headed stepchild. As Alanna and I were emailing each other I wanted to send her a specific image and I ran across this: One friend emailed the question: "So do you normally not get seasick?" I replied: "I don't know if I have good sea legs or not. I grew up in the landlocked Midwest so I didn't spend a lot of time on boats. We've taken a couple of Caribbean cruises and I was fine. I also sailed on a sailboat on the Sea of Azov and I was fine. But pregnancy made me nauseous all the time anyway. Being on a choppy ocean ferry just magnified it. I do NOT recommend it..." Seriously, and I am truly being serious here, if you are pregnant and nauseous I would avoid ocean travel. TRUST ME ON THIS! I would not lie to you.
This past Sunday, Father's Day, comedian Jenny Johnson (@JennyJohnsonHi5) asked people on Twitter to send her photos of their fathers in bad mustaches and shorty shorts. The photos that people sent in were hilarious. I highly recommend that you go to Twitter (you don't have to have an account to look at a person's timeline) and check out the photos that Jenny retweeted on June 21st. I was highly entertained. And it made me think that our family also has a bunch of old photos like that. The 70's are all about bad fashion featuring heavy polyester. Photos from the 70's are inherently funny, no matter the subject or location. So I started digging through old albums to see what I could find. Behold these gems: Animal lovers, don't fear-- that's FAKE fur on my collar. It doesn't really coordinate my my kick-ass polyester pants, but I'm sure my Mom had more things to worry about than coordinating my clothes. If you'll look carefully, my father is wearing checked or plaid pants. Also polyester. I mean, that pretty much goes without saying. From left, my Dad in polyester (shirt AND pants), my sister, my cousin, me and my Mom. In my hands is a Barbie who is also wearing polyester. My grandma used to make Barbie clothes for me. Apparently Barbie was partial to non-breathable, man-made materials. I came across this baby picture of me with my grandfather. I like the expression on my face: It looks like I'm filling my diaper at the moment the photo was taken. OK, I've put a black box over the eyes of the next photo to protect the innocent. I will tell you that I share genetic material with the girl below. It might be a cousin, it might be my sister, or it might be me: So yeah...I wish there was a nicer way to say "cameltoe" but there's not. I can only imagine that there was an entire stage full of girls with this unfortunate looking, uh, crotch area. This next photo isn't particularly funny but it does show my sister and I looking all young, sweet and innocent (looks can be deceiving, never forget): We'd been to Disney world, which is why we're hugging Minnie and Mickey Mouse. The pattern of my dress makes me almost blend into the couch slipcover. And I was really rockin' those white knee socks. I inherited a lot of my grandmother's photos when she passed away. I found this: I don't know who these women are but I think my grandmother went to church with them. They are so nice and wholesome looking. Which is why I feel a little guilty that this is what I thought when I saw them: I know it's wrong it laugh at crying (or rather, screaming) children but this photo of my son cracks me up: Don't worry. I'm sure there was nothing seriously wrong with him. it looks like he had just eaten chocolate pudding. All should have been well in his world. Maybe he wanted more pudding. With kids, it could be anything. Next is a photo taken at a zoo: The expression on that gorilla's face scares me a little. The way he's looking at my son makes me think he'd like to do bodily harm to my child. Or maybe he's calculating pi to the 100th digit. Perhaps he's trying to decide the true meaning of free will. We'll never know. I included this shot above because every parent who has ever flown with a small child knows that this is the most beautiful thing you could ever hope to see on an airplane. It's a moment of sweet relief-- for the parents, that is. And all the other passengers. Compare that image of a sleeping angel to the way my son posed himself at a local museum recently. The display was a canoe you could climb into. Instead my kid said, "It's a Viking funeral!" and pretended to be dead. Nice. Thanks History Channel for making my kid look like he's growing up in the Addams Family. I know I have more horribly bad photos from the 70's. It's just a matter of finding them. In the meantime, if you have any awesomely bad family photos from the 70's (or any era really) feel free to send them to my email address on the sidebar. That could be a fun post if I got enough submissions. In any case, I love old photos. I want to laugh with you AND at you. Share what you've got!
I wrote about my first trip to Russia (during the failed military coup) a couple of posts back. Before the coup began on Monday, August 19, 1991, I had spent the previous weekend in Kiev, Ukraine with my beloved friend Natasha. Below is an excerpt from a college paper that I wrote about my Russian experience. I'm so old that this paper was written on a TYPEWRITER! The front below isn't a "typewriter" font. It's a scanned copy of the paper that I submitted. There are typos, so be prepared. Also, remember that the speaking voice is of a college girl. Just as an FYI, the average salary in Russia at that time was 200 rubles per month. That will help you to put things into perspective when you read how Natasha and I bribed our way onto a train for 100 rubles (believe me, it was money well spent). I don't remember what the exchange rate was at that time but it was extremely favorable for Americans. As a poor college student, I was able to live like a king (or queen rather) when I lived there. The following year I rented a nice NEW apartment for $150 per month in the fall of 1992. I remember I took a shower and ate breakfast and then headed off to class, late. It was on my way to class when I saw the tanks rolling down the wide boulevard near the university. That's when I knew something bad was happening... Before I end this post, I wanted to add something that touched me recently. In February I wrote a post about Natasha when she suddenly lost her 41-year old husband to a heart attack. Her birthday was last week and I was reading all her birthday wishes on the Russian version of Facebook. This photo of Natasha acting on stage caught my attention; I thought it was an odd choice for birthday wishes: A friend captioned the photo: “A new life is beginning. All the bad things are now behind you. I am sure of it”.
Ugh. The feels. My poor Natasha. Bless her heart. (By the way, I don't know who the man is with her in the photo. Obviously one of her fellow actors). Anyway, Natasha is a strong person. I think she doing pretty considering the circumstances. She has a lot of friends and a good support system. I think she'll be OK. Yesterday at work we had one of our quarterly Very Important Meetings which always wears me out. Mostly because I have to smile and act normal and behave in a way that is acceptable to polite society. Basically I have to play a role all day. I'm not an actress ya'll. It's hard for me. So today's post might be kind of lame as I'm just pulling out funny things that happened this past week and dumping them into this one post. Yesterday as the meeting was getting ready to start, I bumped (literally bumped) into one of the meeting participants and made him spill his coffee on the floor. Thankfully it didn't get on his nice suit. This guy is an attorney so he could probably sue my pants off if he wanted. I wrote about this incident to my friend Ivory: This is actually kind of a good idea. One I will have to consider in the future. I attend the Very Important Meetings but I don't have to participate (usually). So I used that time to delete a bunch of photos from my phone. I keep getting an error message that storage is full. It's like the iPhone doesn't want me to have 3,300 photos saved forever. Jerks. As I went through the photos I sent funny ones of my son to Ivory (and others). It helped to pass the time. I asked my son if he remembered the "Playing Dead" game. He said yes. I asked him what was the point of the game. He said it was just to be dead. And he said one of the parents complained that it wasn't an appropriate game for kids to play. I agree. Speaking of the YMCA, this is something my son brought home from camp this week: Between the CSI game and the nipple toy, maybe I should be a little concerned about sending my son to YMCA programs. This next thing is something I saw while out shopping a long time ago. I desperately wanted to buy it. However, I'd have to remember to put it away when family visited and I'd probably forget to do that so it was better to just not buy it at all. You know I like to check my Google search queries periodically. This was a new one for me: In the grand scheme of things, no, I guess it doesn't matter. But my feelings of revulsion are a million times amplified if it's just a piece of loose foreskin in a jar or something. This last item for today is something I randomly remembered: I didn't mention this in the message, but the woman who found panties in her jeans was at work when it happened. I don't think she was in a meeting or anything but that would have made the story a million times funnier. And it sounds like something that would happen to me.
This reminds me of a time I brought in an old pillowcase to work to give to a guy who volunteers at a no-kill animal shelter. One of the workers at the shelter makes kennel beds out of old sheets and pillowcases. I left my office with the pillowcase but got distracted. Later I found myself on a different floor all together and realized I still had this pillowcase in my arms. It was like, "Pay no attention to me. Just out taking my pillowcase for a walk. As you do". It's still better than pulling a pair of underwear out of my pants during a meeting, so that's a consolation. On Monday I received an unexpected surprise in the mail. It was a magazine from 1991. I was the cover story. You're probably thinking that this is one of my humorous exaggerations but it's the truth! One of my Great Aunts is cleaning out the home of another elderly relative and she found this magazine along with a college paper that I written about my experiences in Russia. At some point I'll post excerpts from that school paper because there are some funny moments that are definitely share-worthy. I was in Moscow, Russia in August 1991 during a failed coup attempt. It was my first international trip on my own. Because Murphy's Law is a real and actual law, I got to experience political upheaval up close and in person. At that time, my father worked for a Fortune 100 company which published its own magazine for employees (because they're that freakin' huge). I guess there weren't a lot of American students visiting the Soviet Union in 1991 because people seemed to make a big deal about my experience. I got interviewed live over the phone by a local TV station while I was still in the midst of the crisis. A TV crew interviewed me at home once was I was back. So I've had the fifteen minutes of fame that we're all supposed to get in our lifetimes. In the article below I whited-out a photo of my family as well as our last names to help preserve my family's anonymity (though first names are listed). All of the Russian pics in the article were taken by me, though I don't have a photo credit listed. Now as an adult, I can't believe how stupid and naive I was. Like most young people, I thought I was immortal and nothing bad could happen to me. "No, no-- I don't want to evacuate home. I'd rather stay here and show my support for the people." I remember seeing helicopters fly overhead when I was near the Russian "White House" (their parliament building). Later I found out that the Soviet hardliners considered bombing the people below. I was one of those people. Adult me wants to slap college-age me and say, "What is wrong with you! Why would you put yourself in danger, you idiot!". Here's the color version of the tank photo above: As the coup started, I was walking to class at Moscow State University when all of these tanks started rolling past me. The were hauling ass. I remember thinking, "I don't know what is going on here but I think it's very bad." Which I know was a brilliant deduction on my part. Don't let this dumb look fool you! I don't really know how to conclude this post except to say that I'm grateful that I was completely unharmed during the days of the coup when several protesters did lose their lives. I apologize that this isn't one of my funnier posts (OK, there's really nothing here funny at all) but I think it's interesting. I promise I'll try to be funny in my next post-- no guarantees of course.
I rarely have posts that contain one specific theme; usually it's just random nonsense thrown together. So I'm happy to announce that today's post DOES have a theme. The bad thing is that it's all about toilets. I am aware that this post will not be receiving a literary award nomination in the near future. This happened one day last week: Because it was lunchtime the cafe was packed. I saw people look at me as I emerged from the restroom. It was one of those unisex single stalls. Surrounded by tables. I swear, it's the worst restroom placement ever. I guess I should have played my part and stood there at the door and fanned it back and forth to make it look like I was airing out the enclosed space. "You DO NOT want to go in there. Trust me". Ugh-- just imagining that makes me die a little bit on the inside. I hate being embarrassed in public. Maybe because I do it all the time... My next potty incident involved a celebrity. Hmmm... that's a sentence I never imagined I'd write before. This happened over the weekend: I had to send a follow up email a few minutes later: One friend replied with this: If I'm honest, I can't remember where the stuck toilet seat cover happened. It may not have been at a rest area. It may have been an airport restroom. These are the kinds of events I like to block from my mind, so the memory is kind of fuzzy. My son is currently in day camp with our local YMCA. He goes on THREE field trips a week to really fun places and I'm completely jealous of how much more fun his summer is compared to mine. Anyway, last week the kids went to a park with a small lake and he had the opportunity to fish. But he didn't. I asked why and he said, "I needed to pee the whole time". Um, OK. I asked him why didn't he just use the restroom? He said there was only one restroom and it was yucky and the stall didn't even have a door on it. Apparently the lack of the door was the deal-killer. He said he wished he could have just peed outside but he would have gotten in trouble. Anyway, I told him about my experiences in public restrooms in Russia which also lacked doors sometimes. It wasn't pleasant but it was still better than suffering with a full bladder. Sometimes there were no cubicle walls at all-- just holes in the ground with little feet outlines to show you where to squat. Here's an image of one of these Russian toilets that I found online (without the helpful feet markers): Speaking of Russian toilets, I wrote this post back in December. Click here if you'd like to read it. Just the first third of the post is about toilets, so it's not a long read. Lastly is a comment my son made this weekend which doesn't involve a potty but the topic is close enough that it fits in today's post: This concludes my shit and potty post. Sorry if I set off your gag reflex at any point. The next time I'll try to write about something more pleasant like pancakes (that was the first pleasant thing that popped into my mind; maybe because I made pancakes for dinner last night). In the meantime, enjoy this adorable image of a bunny. This photo puts me into cuteness overload:
It's a "Girls Only", or rather Bitch-iz only, edition of Funny Blog Friday. I totally mean 'bitches" as a term of endearment just so you know. At the end of this post, be sure to check out the blog links of five other ladies who want to make you laugh today. If you are a regular reader, you know that I like to find unusual things for sale in stores, take photos of said items and then send out text blasts to friends and family. I love reading the funny replies. Below are things I've found for sale in retail stores as well as thrift shops. Things that perhaps shouldn't be for sale at all. First item-- it's Potty Trainin' Barbie: Barbie is downright wholesome compared to the girls of "Ever After High": Here's a better view of the stockings. The age range of these dolls is six and up. Because we ALL know that slutty pantyhose is NOT appropriate for a five-year old. I almost was tempted to buy this next toy to see the reaction of my seven-year old son: This "toy" consists of tiny socks for your thumbs. And the "mask" is a sticker. You could color a Band-Aid with a marker and it would be just as fun. And much cheaper. What's even worse is that the small victim (dog? cat?) was literally velcroed to the crotch area of the monkey. I tried to pull them apart but but they were REALLY stuck together. Then I realized that it probably looked like I was having the two stuffed animals simulate copulation so I just put both animals down and walked away... ...And turned the corner to find this (NOT posed by me I want to emphasize): I should add that I would probably be friends with someone who takes the time to put stuffed animals into pornographic positions at a Tuesday Morning store. Maybe I should put a "Missed Connection" ad in the paper or on Craigslist. This next item is something you can buy at the Dollar Store: I never thought that there would come a day when I would imagine roach prisoners wearing tiny orange jumpsuits. I bet your never did either and yet here you are imagining the same thing. I found these next items during one shopping trip to TJ Maxx: One good thing about this angel is that you can pull him out at Halloween and drip fake blood from his head wound. Voilà- front porch decoration! The rest of the year you'd probably want to put a hat on him. Poor little guy. Here's something I found for sale online. It's never to early to start thinking about Christmas gifts for the (over 21) women in your life: I saw these last two items in a thrift store: Some a-hole thought it would be cool to steal the make-up out of the box. In return, the thief left their gum behind. That wasn't a very nice thing to do. But then again it's blusher from a thrift store. It might have been ten years old. Maybe it was a fair trade after all. The bra-sniffing reply from a friend made me nearly collapse on the floor with laughter. This doesn't reflect well on my character, I am aware of this. Hopefully you can spend some quality, CLASSY time with these ladies: Victoria of Angst Anarchy - http://angstanarchy.com Alanna of White Girls Be Like… https://whitegirlsbelike.wordpress.com/ Jamie of Fits of Wit - http://fitsofwit.com/ Jessie of Jessie Reyna - theyourefineblog.wordpress.com Jenn of Properly Ridiculous - http://properlyridiculous.com/ Remember a few posts back, I asked for help with my still-unfinished country song, "Shit on my Pillow"? Within hours of publishing that post, I received an email from a talented reader, Ellen, who submitted a brand new song with an accompanying melody. I was floored. My first thought was, "Holy Shit! There are so many funny and talented people in the world." I asked for Ellen's permission to post this and she graciously agreed. Click on the Youtube video so you can hear the audio while you read the lyrics (below). Shit On My Pillow A really, really, really bad country song that I refuse to claim ownership of. You want to know what makes me blue I don’t know what to say Do I have to spell it out for you It happens almost every day I wake up when you leave my bed And glance where you’ve been layin And wonder what besides your head Has left that lingering stain Tears ain’t brown Love ain’t brown Oreos ain’t brown and neither are Cheetos So just give it to me straight It’s lying that I hate What was your ass end doing on the pillow??? (chorus) Don’t try to blame the dog Don’t try to blame the kids God knows it wasn’t me, so why not just fess up Can’t believe you did it Can’t believe you’d lie That pillow’s for your head and not your butt. Think you need to leave me now I’ll live without your touch I’ll get by all right somehow I won’t miss you that much When I let you in my bed I thought you so endearing But if you don’t know your ass from your head I think I feel my eyes start tearing. Tears ain’t brown Drool ain’t brown And neither are Twizzlers, ice cream or babybels. You haven’t had a snack in bed I’m sorry that we ever met Al I know is, that brown I see is from something else. ***Repeat (Chorus) here depending on how suicidal you are at the moment Or, skip ahead to the Big Finish. ***** (Big Finish) I’m a good woman, I can stand a lot But shit on the pillow… I….Just…Cannot.. My friend Christopher (of Freethinkers Anonymous) thought up these lyrics which I also thought were awesome and shareworthy: And my memories they have a funny tint, From what I thought was a hotel mint. It looked like a treat, but now I know That you had left and that was shit on my pillow. You took my heart then took a shit on my pillow. I'm still looking for a guitar player and a male singer to sing my version. Until I find those two things, I haven't really had the heart to finish. This is your hint to contact me if you know of such a person. Before I end this post, I just wanted to share a couple of recent nonsense things. The first item is something I saw while browsing online for nightgowns: I don't know what cup size this lady is, but she's busting out of that bra in a way that makes me think that she's not the intended market. It's supposed to be a "Juniors" fit after all. We all get spam with annoying regularity in our mailboxes. Sometimes I actually like to open the email just because the ads are SO bad, they're actually amusing. Like this one, which I felt compelled to share via email: Reply from a friend: Don't forget to stop by on Friday. This time it's going to be a "Girls Only" Funny Blog Friday. So all of our topics will be on childbirth, menstruation and menopause. It will be a blast! OK, I'm totally kidding about that. I have no idea what the other funny women are writing about. It just so happened that all of the interest in doing a post this time came only from the gals and not the guys. See you soon! Time for my weekend recap. Normally when someone says that to you, don't you think, "Great. How do I keep an interested frozen smile on my face for the next five minutes?". But fear not beloved reader. You know I would never do that to you. Instead I've got my usual random nonsense to share with you. It's all I know really. I used my lunch hour on Friday to visit a local thriftshop. I'm still looking for ideas to make sure my "Funny Blog Friday" post on the 12th is as funny as it can possibly be. I've put aside some photos that I may use in that post. In the meantime, here are some items that didn't make the cut but are still kind of funny (in my opinion). Is it just me, or does Granny seem to have a guilty look on her face? Speaking of faces, I hope she uses some of her retirement funds to get that spot on her cheek looked at. If you've read any of my past posts, you know that I'm accident prone and clumsy, which is why this book caught my eye: Another friend, Christopher, had this to saw about my all-girl banjo group: I probably don't even have to mention it, but you know one of the songs in our repertoire will be my still-unfinished masterpiece, "Shit on my Pillow". We'll probably use it to close the show, because you know, it's the song that made us famous. OK, new topic. My seven-year old son is an only child. I sometimes wonder if he might be a little spoiled. Then I sent out the email below and I knew for sure that he has a rather pampered childhood: A couple of years ago I got EXTREMELY lucky and was able to buy a set of Italian Sferra sheets for our king bed at a ridiculous discount at Tuesday Morning. These are the sheets that cost like $1700 per set (I'm not even kidding about that). I think they are 800 thread count; it feels like you at sleeping on angels wings (that's the softest thing I could think of). Seriously, it makes all other bedding feel like burlap. My son has complained recently that he wants soft sheets like ours. I've been trying to keep an eye out for high thread count twin sheets when out shopping but I haven't had any luck so far. So today I looked at the Sferra website and the clearance section. So yeah, I found something similar to ours. Just the twin flat sheet is $258, reduced from $345. I didn't bother to add up how much the entire set would cost. Because it looks like he'd better get used to sleeping on burlap. Mostly I think it's hilarious that a seven year old boy is aware of how expensive sheets feel nicer compared to regular ones. This doesn't bode well for the future. "Mother-- is this orange juice freshly squeezed? It tastes like it came from a carton. Oh, please remember to buy the three-ply toilet paper in the future. I find the two-ply irritating." (ha) I got this response from my friend Ivory: Speaking of kids being spoiled, we attended an "End of the School Year" party on Sunday. It was a fun backyard party with a trampoline and water games. They had a sack race kit and a piñata for the kids. My son was excited about the piñata because he'd never got to hit one before. Unfortunately, the first blindfolded kid broke the piñata apart on the very first swing. So that was disappointing. The Mom said she had purchased the piñata at Walmart, which makes me think I'll check other retailers if we ever need one for a party. I didn't even know it was possible to do this, but the party hosts had called ahead for an ice cream truck to show up at their house at a designated time. I thought that was a clever idea. That way every kid (and parent) could have exactly what they wanted. I noticed this on the side of the ice cream truck: I don't care much for clowns. Have you noticed? Another fun attraction at the party was a Slip-N-Slide. My son and the other kids had a blast. I hadn't seen one in years. This is what a Slip-N-Slide looks like in 2015: When I was a kid, there were no bumpers to keep you from sliding off the end. There were no cute little inflatable cushions to slide on. This is was the Slip-N-Slide of my youth: That's right kids. Our summertime fun in the 70's consisted of sliding on a big plastic tarp that we weighted down with bricks or rocks. This is just an image I found on the internet but I had to do a double take because it reminded me of my grandparent's house. I had forgotten that feeling of your skin scraped raw as you skidded across the lawn. You would be covered in grass by the time you finished playing. My son was covered in grass AND mud by the time we left yesterday so I guess some things never change. If I'm honest, I have to admit that I'm a little jealous at how much better his childhood is compared to mine. Still if I had to sum up the awesomeness of his childhood I would just say this one word: iPad. Oh, and cartoons "On Demand" on TV 24-hours a day. And car seats that protect you from becoming a high-velocity projectile in a fender bender. I'll stop here because I could write an entire post on this topic. And perhaps I will in the future...
Hey kids-- it's time for another edition of "Weird Shit I Found While Shopping at Tuesday Morning". I recently visited my favorite closeouts and overstock store with the sole intention of being entertained. There is a "Funny Blog Friday" post coming up on Friday, June 12th (mark your calendars) and I haven't yet decided on a topic. I figured that the unusual items for sale at Tuesday Morning would help to inspire me. And as always, the store did not fail to deliver. This was the first thing I saw as I walked in the door. If you've read the posts from the past few weeks, you'll know I've had some recent run-ins with spiders. Therefore I wasn't thrilled to see this: I showed this photo to my son and his actual quote was, "Ewwwwwwww! I don't want that!". Those are my feelings exactly. Hey you lovers of "My Little Pony"-- get a load of this! That's right. It's a pony with a cupcake for a head. Or it's a cupcake with the body of a pony. I don't know. This makes no sense to me. If you'll notice, it even comes with a decorative "cake stand". Isn't that adorable? This was the only Cupcake Pony for sale but apparently there are others: We all know that "My Little Pony" is the gold standard of brightly colored toy ponies with braidable hair. Of course success breeds imitators. I give you the knockoff "My Little Pony"-- the "Pretty Pony Collection": At only $2.99 per pony, I have a feeling that this is not a fine quality product. Most likely those fake eyes will eventually fall out of their sockets and inside the body of the pony. Leaving behind gaping eye sockets. Which actually might be an improvement over the dead-eyed stare. Not everything funny at Tuesday Morning is in the toy section (but believe me, it's the hands down winner as the best part of the store). This product exists: This concludes the "weird shit" section of today's post. I have more funny toys to share in the future. The funniest ones actually. I'm saving those in case I use them for my Funny Blog Friday post. Last item for today is an email I sent about the delivery guys who brought my new washing machine on Wednesday; Sometimes I forget about my internal weirdo magnet. Then incidents like these remind me that the magnet is still active and working. Thank God I'm completely healthy!
I like to think that I am a reasonably intelligent person. I have a Master's Degree in Russian. I've held a responsible position at the same company for over 18 years. But on a nearly daily basis I do things that could be described as stupid or idiotic. I usually describe myself as having "goober tendencies" as that sounds nicer than "idiotic". Perhaps you don't believe me. Let me give you some examples from just the past few days. I sent this email to all employees at our company yesterday morning: The person who had lost the mug didn't understand why I thought her email was so funny. Once she explained to me what kind of mug she really had, I had to send out an update email: I have to say I got a LOT of positive feedback from people who thought the emails were funny. And they were-- but it wasn't intentional on my part, so it was kind of embarrassing. I lamented to various friends that I was worried that my fellow co-workers would think that there is something wrong with me. My friend David wrote me back this reassuring email: But that incident wasn't the only thing "goober" thing that I did yesterday. Oh no. I have a friend at work who has a two-year old daughter. I recently found a bunch of coloring books that my son never used so I figured we should pass them along. I sent her this email: Later my friend told me that the bag I had used was from a local liquor store. The store's name is in large letters on the bag: "LIQUOR WORLD!" (not actual name but close enough). I hadn't even noticed. This woman is a manager. So I'm sure it looked really classy for her to have a liquor store bag hanging outside her door for a couple of hours. I told friends about this incident and once again my friend David made me feel better about myself: These next two incidents happened just moments apart last Friday. I used my lunch hour to get my hair cut. I bet the next time I'm at the salon that receptionist will use small words and talk really slowly to me. And I don't blame her. Another friend didn't even write any words, but just sent me this photo in response: This photo accurately sums up my own feelings about my near accident. But I didn't want to kill the baby bird! I had good intentions... My last example of the odd way my mind works happened over the weekend: I happened to think later that a normal parent would have immediately thought, "Oh my God, there's an intruder in the house!". My first thought was that evil spirits were talking to my son via the TV. I asked him later who he was talking to and he said he didn't know. Which is kind of creepy. I may be right after all! (I seriously hope not though). Well, these are all the "goober tendencies" examples I have for now. I wonder if I have an actual medical condition. Please send money to help with research. Or at least to help pay for the new washing machine that we had to buy a few days ago after our old one died. Either way, it's for a good cause.
OK, if you've read my last post, you know that I'm working on a song entitled "Shit on my Pillow" -- or maybe "Pilla". I haven't decided. I wrote that post on Friday night. By Saturday morning I already had an email from a reader named Ellen who wrote an ENTIRE PAGE OF LYRICS as well an ACCOMPANYING MELODY! It is so freaking awesome. I'm going to wait to see if I get any more submissions so I can do an entire "Shit Pilla" themed post. Also, I need time to figure out how to upload Ellen's lyrics and music file. The fact that I'm able to write words and upload photos to my blog is as about as talented as I get in regards to being tech savvy. Also, I sent a message to Jenny Lawson AKA "The Bloggess" and asked her for help with writing my song. I may have made her some promises regarding instant riches and stardom once our song becomes an international hit. Anyway, she was kind enough to send me a few lines which I thought were brilliant. I told her I'd give her full credit for for her contribution. I mentioned that it's hard to find words that rhyme with pillow and she suggested this: Zillow rhymes with pillow. "I might have to move. Find something on zillow?" The ideas from Ellen and Jenny make me feel so much love for our fellow human beings. There are so many funny and creative people in the world. And I want to get to know all of them. Still send me your song ideas, even if it's just a snippet or song hook. The world is waiting for our collective genius creation! Which apparently is a song about a pillow with shit on it... Also in my last post I included a photo of a clown mask that my son made. A sharp-eyed reader commented that maybe I was looking at the mask upside down. And it turns out that I was. My son laughed at me when he saw the way I had originally posted the photo. The correct photo is the one on the right: I mean, it's a completely understandable mistake, right? Speaking of clowns, I recently checked my latest Google search queries and saw this: OK, I don't know how to transition to this next bit of nonsense. There's really no way to transition from dicks that look like clowns to people riding motorized stuffed-animals at the mall. Anyway, I saw this while out shopping one day last week: I wonder-- does it count as bad karma if you just THINK mean or inappropriate things? Form a circle and lets discuss. OK, use your imagination with this next photo and pretend that you're looking at WHITE socks in the photo below (Google images failed me for once; I was looking for old man legs in white socks and sandals and this was as close as I could get). I sent this next text while still at the mall: I should probably start a contact list in my phone that says, "People who will come bail me out of jail". Because surprisingly not everyone was willing to come get me. (They are bad people). Anyway, the mention of jail made me remember this: This reply from a friend made me laugh: Apparently there is (or was) another Gina W in town. We have the same last name but this lady's given name is actually REGINA though she goes by Gina. Until I made our phone number unlisted, I used to get weird phone calls from skeevy-sounding people asking for my name-twin. Oh, and one time I even got a bill from a gynecologist which was meant for the other Gina. So that was awesome. Why couldn't she have been someone rich and famous? I could have got phone calls offering me free swag and tickets to events. Instead I got calls from collection agencies. Such is my luck...
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GinaI'm the worst kind of asshole-- I think I'm funny. Archives
November 2016
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