Category: Funny

Counting Shoes – Follow Up

Published on by cmglife

My sister said I should do a follow up to the post a few weeks ago, “Counting Shoes”. She said my level of gullibility and naivete may have just been more than anyone, especially her, could stomach.

Without going into too much detail of why the rules have recently changed in our house, they have.

“All girlfriends must be gone from the residence by the time parents are in bed. “

After much thought I believe that should do it. So far so good, I have been doing “bed checks” every night, just like the old days. I used to tuck Tristan in and give him a good night kiss. No way will that happen anymore, but hopefully the new rule will keep him just as safe. At home in bed…alone!

Parknaphobia

Published on by cmglife

Among other things in my kaleidoscope brain is a parking phobia.  Parknaphopia I believe is the clinical term.

Downtown is the worst. I have always gone to great lengths to find a perfect spot or an open spot.  I have been known to walk 16 blocks to my destination because I pulled into the first spot I saw.

When I have to go somewhere new and I suspect there is sub par parking available, I’ll call ahead and casually ask.  I hate it when people just flippantly say, “Oh, yeah, there’s parking”.  What does that mean exactly? Parking in the rear, on the street, in a garage, where, what?  I’m starting to get worried again.  I’ll move on.

The strange thing is I do know how to parallel park, but I don’t always have the confidence at the time to try it.  If I’m feeling all rough and ready I’ll do it and I’ll do it well.  I really don’t have a parking problem as much as I have a self confidence problem you are probably observing.  Or, as I am reading back over what I wrote I pretty much have both and it’s when they both collide is when I have a serious problem.

Oh, yeah I also have a little claustrophobia.  It’s pretty much hell when I’ve got to park in a parking garage and I’m feeling a little down on myself.   One time I actually backed into a cement wall trying to park John’s new dodge truck on the top floor of a parking garage that was downtown on a one-way street.  I was trying to get to the top floor to get out from under the 10′ roof that seemed to be getting lower with every floor I went up.  I was so flustered by the time I got up there I didn’t see it (the cement wall that is).

Now I wonder if you are wondering how I even get out of bed in the morning with all this to deal with.  I’m used to it I guess.  It’s probably the reason I need 10 hours of sleep a night,  I’m exhausting.

Forehead Forward

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My father told us once that the reason people are photogenic is because they have faces with sharp angles and high cheek bones.  Well, thanks for your round-faced nonexistent cheek boned DNA, Dad! And thanks for the observation, was it even solicited advice?  No, it wasn’t.

After that I have taken it upon myself not to have my photo taken with anyone, anywhere at any time.  The only time I was “caught” was my wedding photos and some obligatory ones over the years to prove that my children had a mother and my husband did indeed have a wife.  I have luckily not passed down my round-faced nonexistent cheek bone DNA to my children; they have their father’s who is sickenly photogenic.

My oldest daughter is a photographer and just recently showed me a way to make my face look not so round, etc. in photographs.  As you are smiling, slightly move your forehead forward.  It works! No kidding!  So, look out I’m going to be hamming it up whenever there’s a camera around from now on.

So, last month I went to the DMV with a new confidence.  My last license had expired after 10 years.  Back then I had lied about my weight and subtracted 3 lbs. That’s how delusional (and vain) I was back then. My weight still matters to me, so this time I’ve decided to subtract 20 lbs! Don’t think I’ll get away with it?

After getting there at 8am and waiting two hours it was finally my turn.  I knew I looked good.  Full makeup, hair straightened and a flattering top.

“My picture will look great with my new protruding forehead move,” I thought to myself.

The DMV lady said, “Stand in front of the blue screen and look directly at the red light. Push your bangs away from your eyes and put your hair behind your back.”

Well, okay, I did as I was told, thinking, “This isn’t going to do much for my photo.”  Undaunted, I moved my bangs, my hair, put my forehead forward and gave a pleasant smile.  She snapped the photo and I felt confident.

“You closed your eyes, let’s take another one” This happened two more times.

At the last retake I was so strung out trying to keep my hair out of my eyes, hair behind my back, eyes open and forehead forward I didn’t care what happened anymore.

Well, that devil may care attitude got me what I deserved.  The license came in the mail two weeks later and the only one to see it has been my husband, Allison and the guy at the liquor store (I did apologize to him).

When Allison saw it she said sadly, “Oh, were you hot? It looks like you were sweating.”

In the end it was the same round-cheeked, boneless faced, deer caught in headlights look that I have come to love.

I Never Would Have Recognized You

Published on by cmglife

Yesterday John and I were downtown at a festival when we ran into a couple of old friends.  Ann saw John first and gave him a hug.  Then she looked around for me who was standing a couple of feet behind him.  Granted the sidewalk was a little crowded and I am a little short, but I thought it seemed strange she didn’t see me right away.

I said, “Hi Ann!”

Her eyes finally locked on mine and she exclaimed,” Oh! I never would have recognized you!”  

We exchanged the usual niceties: how are you, how is life, etc. Then each couple moved on down the street.

I started to wonder what she had meant by “I never would have recognized you!” She never said why, my imagination began to run away.

I asked John what he thought that meant and he just said, “I knew you would latch on to that one”.

I still cannot shake it this morning.  Did it mean, “My God your hair is so much longer and luxurious I never would have recognized you”?  Did it mean, “Wow, you’ve finally started coloring your hair and I never would have recognized you” or did it mean, “You are at least 20 lbs. heavier and you look more like a pudgy version of your former self”?

Of course, the last one is the one I am going with.

Selective Dixlexia

Published on by cmglife

Anyone have those words that all your life you cannot spell?  Here is my partial list:

Phyciatriy

Lisence

Counceler

Excersise

Definetly

Dyxlexia

Is it selective dyslexia or am I just a terrible speller? Is it yet another syndrome I am going to be diagnosed with?  Only if they can catch me!

Warning! Texting and Walking

Published on by cmglife

DON’T LET THIS HAPPEN TO YOU!

photo

Nitrous Oxide

Published on by cmglife

“Now, you want the nitrous oxide, right?”, asked the dental hygienist.

Hell, yeah!

“Yes, please”, I responded.  My hands were already balled into fists.

Wikipedia: dentophobia or individuals with post-traumatic stress disorder, caused by previous traumatic dental experiences.

The latter is the category I feel I fall into.  I’m not going to bore you with horrific old stories of needles hitting a nerve or anything like that, just suffice it to say, I have “dentophobia”.

I like to think there is an upside to everything.  This particular silver lining is called nitrous oxide. It’s not exactly a high, just a nothing feeling.  So much so that the 45 shots I got in my gums and cheek  for a recent root canal didn’t even faze me.  Even when I think the dentist did hit a nerve and a jolt of electricity went through my tongue, I didn’t flinch.  Amazing stuff.   I would enjoy my life so much more if I could wheel a canister of it around during the day the way oxygen patients do.

Idea of the Week: Sparkling My Wine

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My cousin in England served me a sparkling wine last year and after more bottles than I am willing to admit to sampling, I have yet to find something comparable in this country.  That’s when I came up with an idea that I could sparkle my own wine.

I used to drink wine mixed with Sprite because I breastfed my youngest daughter for so long that I had to start drinking!  I figured that diluted wine would be the safest bet.  This is TMI isn’t it?  Still, adding Sprite to wine wasn’t exactly the thing I was looking for.

Last night I was at my sister’s.   I had bought her a Soda Stream last year for Christmas.  My sister carbonized some plain water and added it to my wine…it was delicious.  I heard recently, that if you drink equal amounts of water with your alcohol you won’t get a hangover because you won’t get dehydrated.  Well, I thought maybe if I added “sparkling” water to my alcohol it would kill two birds with one stone (I’m always looking for ways to streamline my drinking). Still, adding sparkling water to my wine wasn’t the thing I was looking for.

I had read an article called “Going Rouge with my Soda Machine”.  It was like it was written for me.  The author had tried sparkling his lemonade and it didn’t work out so well, something about a “mess”.  He said the Soda Machine manual forbids using anything except plain water.

I’m still going to try to Soda Stream the wine straight, warning or not.  Two reasons;  I want to and I’m no longer breast feeding anyone.

Cat Guts

Published on by cmglife

Last week Allison came home from school with her “story of the week” I like to call it.  I’m always afraid of these because I wonder how much this school is affecting her psyche. After all I’ve tried so hard not to let my psyche affect hers.  It’s complicated.

This is the story this time:

Allison:    Today in science class Mr. Ross passed cat guts around the classroom.

Me:          What? Did you say cat guts?

Allison:    Yes,  and we could touch them if we wanted to.  I touched the kidney and it made my fingers tingle even after I stopped touching it.

Me:          Yeah, formaldehyde will do that to you.  You washed your hands after this right?

Allison:    Then I touched the liver, well I thought it was the liver, but it turned out to be the bladder and it was full of urine!

Me:          (dead silence, but with a horrified expression).

Geek vs. Eccentric

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I’m not sure if you’ve already read the “screamo” post earlier, but that was the night it was brought to my attention that at least my family thinks that I am a geek.  I don’t have any idea what the criteria of a geek is.  Actually, just like everyone, unless you are “beautiful”, “rich” or “thin” no one likes to be labeled.  Especially when it is a false label! Which this clearly is!

“I am an outsider,” I say, “not a Geek!”

A nerd?  Creative?  Eccentric? Or am I everything? Maybe I am granted a pass to all extreme or weird behavior because I have been diagnosed with BPII (Bipolar II). I’m shortening Bipolar II now. I’m tired of writing the whole thing out. It makes me feel like I am trying too hard to make that distinction between the manic depressive kind and the kind I have.  I guess I am trying hard because it still does matter what people think of me.

My sister said the other day, “We always considered Aunty Katherine the eccentric in the family, then we thought it was Daniel (our cousin).  It turns out it was you all along”.

I still haven’t got back to her exactly how I feel about this.  And the fact that obviously there has been some great discussion going on behind the scenes about where I belong in the family.  I mean really, Daniel has been dethroned as the resident crazy person and now the crown has been passed to me? Should I have been watching for the smoke to turn white?