On Monday I had to pick my son up early from school for a doctor's appointment. While we were waiting, I posted this on Facebook:
Yo mama is so ugly that when the Kool-Aid man broke through her wall he said, "Oh noooo! ....."
I know you just read the title of this post and are like, "Oh my gosh Gina, what happened?". Well, patience my child. I'll get to it. The alternate title of today's post is: "Waiting Room Humor AND Drama".
On Monday I had to pick my son up early from school for a doctor's appointment. While we were waiting, I posted this on Facebook:
Just to clarify, we didn't laugh until the nurse turned her back. 'Cause we're polite that way...
While my son had a test performed on him, the REAL Jane Craven sat down next to me and I had to turn off my phone lest she see her name and the Chris Farley GIF on my screen (and I can't even imagine how confusing that would be). I surreptitiously took a photo of her and thought about posting it with the words, "OMG YOU GUYS! IT'S JANE CRAVEN!" but I realized this perfectly nice woman didn't deserve to be made fun of. She did nothing wrong. But still, I wish I could have captured the moment of an 8-year old boy singing the name "Jane Craven" maniacally, while doing the dance above.
Yesterday, I picked my son up from school so we could each get allergy shots. We both just started getting shots right after the holidays. My son has inherited my weird genetic disposition for unusual (and usual) allergies. While we waited in the allergist's waiting room, I sent this text:
I've learned that sitting in a waiting room with my kid is basically a recipe to make me break out in inappropriate laughter. He told me this "Yo Mama" joke:
Yo mama is so ugly that when the Kool-Aid man broke through her wall he said, "Oh noooo! ....."
I know, it's so childish, but it made me laugh. Which was good, because not long afterwards I started feeling the tell-tale signs of an allergic reaction-- itchy throat, lips and arms. I'm too lazy to rewrite what happen so instead I'll just post the text messages I sent to my friend Alanna:
Our conversation continued when she checked in with me today:
You gotta love a conversation that starts out with a life-threatening incident and ends up with the name "Mrs. Roper".
In case my son and I should ever, God forbid, have an anaphylactic reaction, we both have EpiPens. I've had one for years and every time I get the prescription filled, I want to call the drug manufacturer and yell at someone. I have private insurance but if I didn't, take a look at what the real cost is:
Sorry the print is super-tiny, but the cost for a two-pack (because sometimes you need more than one pen to stop the allergic reaction) is $725! And the shelf life on these things is only about a year. The drug company knows that people will pay anything not to die a horrible, painful death from anaphylactic shock. Bastards. Even if we didn't have insurance, I would pay the money for my son to have an EpiPen. If you're too poor to afford an EpiPen, I guess your best advice is to pop some Benadryl and hope for the best. Feel free to rant about insane drug prices in the comments section. Or just tell your favorite "Yo Mama" joke...
Tomorrow will be a year since my dear Russian friend Natasha lost her 41-year old husband to a heart attack (I wrote about it here. It's a completely sad and heartbreaking post, just so you are forewarned). Natasha created an online memory page in honor of her husband and asked people to submit their photos of him. I posted three photos. This morning my husband and I received an email from his nephew which showed a bunch of recent family photos. Those two things have put me in a Russian state of mind today. I adore the Russian people and culture. I have only good memories of the time I spend in Russia and I'm proud that my son is half-Russian. However, I have to say that I hate it that politics has driven a wedge between Russia and the US lately (things were going so well for a while after the fall of the Soviet Union). To quote Depeche Mode:
"People are people
So why should it be
You and I should get along so awfully"
Apologies in advance that this song is now stuck in your head. Just be glad I didn't use the Disney World song "It's a Small World After All". Anyway, I'm not a political analyst so you won't find me writing about US and Russian relations here (this is where you say, "Thank God"). Let's talk about more shallow things, like gorgeous Russian women.
For whatever reason, the Russian people seem to be favored by the gods of beauty and grace (Note-- this is where a geneticist should pipe up and say something like, "Nah, it's just that a bunch of good-looking Russians had a lot of sex and produced generations of beautiful people"). Let me support my case:
OK, I won't bore you with any more family photographs. Plus, you probably already know that Russian women are beautiful (and the men aren't half-bad either). Most Russian people I know are very smart also. It would be easy to hate the Russian people if I didn't love them so much.
Speaking of pretty Russian women, if you have three minutes to kill, check out this Russian video clip. I think it's quite entertaining. It's one long shot, which is impressive, especially when you get to the end and see the explosion and motorcycle accident. (Sorry for the minor spoilers).
I know this wasn't one of my typical humorous (or attempted humorous) posts. I hope you didn't mind my short love letter to Russia and the Russian people. It's interesting to learn about other countries and cultures, right? Every once in awhile I need to produce a post that my son can show his own children someday without cringing.
Someone I know recently told me to "Quit acting like a 16 year old girl". That comment totally made me want to say, "You're not the boss of me! I'll do whatever I want!". When the weather warms up, I'm gonna TP that person's house and spread mean rumors about them at school. (Kidding). But it reminded me that I've been saving some funny and immature (oh, and borderline NSFW) things to share.
First up is a text conversation from a few months ago with my friend Shawna. I hadn't posted it before now because I thought perhaps it was a bit too crude. Also, it's hard to write about entire post about a butthole (yes, a literal butthole. Not metaphorical). My part in green:
Besides farts, we all know that boner humor is funny. Which is why I was amused when this piece of mail arrived at work (address to a male co-worker, not me):
When I gave this to the intended recipient, I of course had to joke and say, "Here's a piece of mail that I know you've been eagerly awaiting!". (This is the part where you pity my co-workers). My friend Christoper had this to say:
Seriously, how much does Cialis cost anyway? Obviously a lot. Helpful hint fellas-- you can watch YouPorn for free. You're welcome!
On Facebook I posted this photo of a whale that I had seen in one of my sons' books. I had a stare at the photo a ridiculously long time before I realized it was upside down.
This comment made me laugh out loud:
I noted that if Jay Leno was a whale, this is what he would look like.
Last thing for today is a text I sent to friends a few minutes before midnight on New Year's Eve. Other people send "Happy New Year!" messages. I send photos of Nixon and Elvis.
OK kiddos, that's it for today. As I mentioned previously, come be my friend on Facebook here. Also, send me your creepy guy stories to my email (on the sidebar) before February 1st. Thanks!
*world=my blog readers
I don't know how many of you make the effort to read the comment section of my posts, but I am telling you that if you don't, you are missing out on comedy gold. Scroll down and read the comment section of my last post ("Creepy Men and ComplimentBots"). Go ahead... I'll wait.
I thought that the story Margot told was hilarious. It seems like nearly every woman has her own "creepy guy" story to tell. Then an idea hit me... why don't I collect these stories for one awesome blog post of deviant sexual behavior! I'll give you a few weeks to respond and then I'll publish the post of awesomeness sometime near Valentine's Day. You know, 'cause irony. Today is January 15. Let's say I impose a deadline of Monday, February 1st for submissions. The email to use is: email@example.com. I'll compile all that creepiness and make a giant post of cringe-worthy awkwardness that we can all enjoy. I want to make sure that you male readers know that are welcome to participate too. Feel free to share your own moments of creepy girl interactions or maybe share the time that YOU were the creepy guy (completely by accident, I'm sure).
Maybe you're thinking, "I would love to share my own creepy guy story but I want to remain anonymous". No problem! Just tell me that in the email. Or perhaps you're a kind fellow blogger helping a girl out. I'll be sure to include a link to your website along with your story. Perhaps you've always wanted to go by the name "Ernesto Cameltoe". This is your chance! I will publish any name you want. I'm easy like that! (Also, I don't really give a shit about the name. I just want the story).
Another question-- "How long should it be?". As long or short as your little heart desires. There are no set rules here. It can be a short submission. Like this:
"When I was 18 I worked as a cashier at Kroger and one time the police had to be called because a guy was caught masturbating in the magazine section. I've always wondered what magazine he was using. Reader's Digest? Ladies Home Journal? This was a grocery store for God's sake. There were no porno mags for sale".
This really did happen. Public masturbation seems to occur more often than you might think. Ew. Still, I think it's funny. What are these guys thinking? Like the Kroger guy. Perhaps this was his grocery list:
Feel free to tell others about my little project. My hope is that I get so many submissions I have to break the post into two parts or else it will be too damn long. A girl can dream can't she? You have until February 1st. OK, now get to writing!
Before I left for Christmas vacation, my printer at work decided to become a sullen teenager. It would sometimes do what I wanted and sometimes not. The last day before going on my two-week break, I needed to send seven letters. I could print one and ONLY ONE letter and then the printer was was like, "WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME? Screw you. I need a nap", and then my printer would go to sleep. Or else it would print in all red even though I had SPECIFICALLY chosen "black ink only". Which reminds me that I don't think it's a coincidence that red is Satan's favorite color. Often when a letter actually WOULD print, the paper would jam. I called our tech support line but my usual IT friend was gone and I got transferred to an IT department in a different state. Their helpful advice was "to turn my computer off and on". I didn't know this, but apparently I'm qualified to answer IT support questions. Future IT tech-person me: "Did you try turning it off and on?" That usually works". And it did work. Seven freakin' times. However, I was completely frazzled by the end of the day.
Here's the bastard printer that betrayed me:
After I got back from the holiday break, I got permission from my boss to get a new printer. He also gave me permission to throw the POS printer off the roof, which is tempting but now that we've hit a cold spell I might have to wait until the spring. I had this conversation with my friend the IT Dude (and yes I know that there's a repeated word in the the first line. This is real-life, people):
Here's the link to the ComplimentBot 4000. The first compliment was amusing:
The next compliment was nice but it made me feel a teensy-bit awkward:
The third compliment pushed us into full blown creepy territory:
Why'd you have to go and make things awkward between us ComplimentBot?
My friend the IT Dude received this compliment:
Maybe it's my fault. I've been married 21 years and I no longer know how to read the subtle and not-so-subtle signs of attraction. Which reminds me that some day I'm going to write a post (or book) entitled, "Strange Men Have I Known". It will include such highlights as the Masturbating Guy from Kiev and Threesome Guy, the guy I briefly dated who thought it would be awesome to have a threesome with me and my mother (GAH! And eewwwwwwww... I know).
Also included will be a chapter about the delivery guy at work who thought we were having a relationship. Because I was friendly to him. I swear there was NO OTHER encouragement on my part. This happened probably twelve years ago when my company was located in a different building. We would get a weekly delivery that I needed to sign for. The only contact I had with this guy was to say "Hello" and "Thank You" and "Here's your sheet back" when I signed the delivery receipt. One day COMPLETELY OUT OF THE BLUE he told me that he was going through a divorce and that his wife had taken their son to Indiana and he was afraid she was going to kill the boy (who I think was about 10 years old). I didn't know what to say other than that I was sorry. Then he asked me if I had seen the movie "Bad Santa" (yes I have and I think it's hilarious) because the boy in the movie reminded him of his son. (As a side note, I can never see that movie without thinking of this delivery guy and his poor son). I can't remember the delivery guy's name but let's call him Gary (because it's faster to type than Enrique or Maximilian). I made the mistake of telling Gary that I would be out of the office for two weeks because my husband and I were going on a ten-day cruise. He told me, "Take me instead". Normally that's a funny thing you can say to people when you find out that they're going someplace awesome. "Take me too!". Except with Gary he wasn't joking. He told me, "Take me and I'll pay for everything." He said something like I'd have more fun with him than with my husband (uh, sorry Gary, but NOPE!). He told me we should go on the cruise together probably three times before I even left on the damn trip. After that awkwardness I started being conveniently "out of my office" when Gary arrived. I avoided him as much as possible and you cannot believe the joy I felt when we switched vendors and I realized that Gary would no longer be our delivery guy. On the day of his last delivery he was angry and and short with me. Maybe he thought I had something to do with the changeover (I didn't). I was relieved that our "relationship" had come to and end. But I shit you not, a few months later my husband and I went to a local mall and right at the entrance was Gary with his truck. He saw my husband and I together and he GLARED at us as we walked past him. My husband was like, "What's that guy's problem?" and I quickly pulled him inside to safety and told him it was the weird guy who had taken a liking to me. Since then I've never seen Gary again (and hallelujah for that).
So the moral of this story is this... oh hell, there's no moral. People and computers are weird and creepy and unpredictable sometimes so you might as well get used to it. The end.
This is what I've been thinking to myself today: "Holy shit! What have I done?". I joined Facebook. Again. I'm already having second thoughts. I assure you I'm not a Luddite or Technophobe. I had a personal Facebook account for about a year between 2009 and 2010. At first it was great to show off photos of my toddler to friends and family. I liked seeing my friends' photos. But then the "friend" requests started coming from people who weren't my friends. I felt awkward being "friends" with another Dad in my kid's daycare class. We literally had nothing in common other than the the fact that both our kids were potting training at the same time. Then I got friend requests from women who had never been friendly to me in high school. I declined those. Those bitches had their chance at my friendship and blew it. I was disturbed by the amount of arguing in my timeline over politics and sports teams. One family member put a photo of her granddaughter on her page but tagged me as being the child in the photo (I think she just wanted to send me the photo). Since I am not a five-year old girl, I deleted my tagged name. So I thought. What actually happened is that the photo was deleted, which incensed my relative. What did I have against her granddaughter? Ugh. Nothing. Why has this become an argument between us? The Farmville requests were annoying too. One of the turning points was when an old high school friend posted a photo of a cookie and a cup of tea and wrote something like, "I'm eating a cookie and drinking tea". I was like, "Why the fuck am I reading about this? Can I get back those two seconds of my life?". In the end the annoyances were greater than the satisfaction I got from being on Facebook. Email and text messaging still existed, so that's how I stayed in touch with people. Then I joined Twitter, which I find to be a great time-waster (when you're in the mood for that kind of thing). Still, most people I know don't have Twitter accounts but it seems like nearly everyone I know (besides me) has a Facebook account. I haven't been super aggressive about promoting my blog, but nearly everything I read says I need a Facebook presence. So now I have one. I just wanted to make a Facebook page for my blog, but it turns out that I had to first create a personal page (sigh). So um, hey guys, do you want to be friends with me on Facebook? Would some shameless begging help? Because I'll do it. The first link below is to my personal page. Just a heads up that I really and truly don't know what I'm doing yet. There are too many settings and it makes me feel overwhelmed. I promise that I'll make every effort to not post dick pics. Unless that's what you want. Then it'll be dick pics all around! Wait-- are you even allowed to post dick pics on Facebook? See? I really don't know.
Gina W. at EndearinglyWacko
The page looks like this:
Then I made a page for my website:
Facebook Page for Endearingly Wacko Website
I wonder if more visibility will lead to more trolls or spamming. I never mentioned this before but a few months ago a troll left a nasty comment on a post. He (or she) told me "What is this shit? Fuck you bitch". And then he called me the "N" word, which is odd because in case you can't tell from my photos, I'm actually a very pale person. My skin tone is either called "ivory" or "fishbelly white" depending on how poetic you're feeling. Anyway, we'll see what happens. If Facebook proves to be too annoying or overwhelming, I"ll shut it all down (again). In the meantime, come be part of my experiment (while it lasts. Ha. Sort of).
Hey kiddos-- it's Monday, January 4th, so it was the first day back to work and school for most of us. How was your day? Personally I was in mourning when I got ready for work this morning. I wore all black-- even my bra and underwear were black because I was determined that no part of me was going to be cheerful about the day. Happy pink panties with little flowers on them? I don't fuckin' think so.
This morning I happened to see this tweet (from Sunday) and it resonated with me greatly:
Once I got to to work, I kept hearing people socialize in the hallway and I felt irritated by the idle chit-chat (just FYI, I'm not a morning person). For the last two weeks, I didn't get up until at least 9:00AM. Today I was fully dressed with my hair done and make-up on and sitting at my desk at 9:00AM. I have to say that it kind of sucked. On a happier note, one of my male co-workers (who is a big Star Wars fan. How big? He named his son Lucas after George Lucas) stopped by my office so we could discuss "Star Wars: The Force Awakens". I won't give any spoilers here (other than this-- who would have foreseen a homoerotic love story between Luke and Han Solo? I totally did NOT see that coming). Just kidding. (Maybe). For those of you who haven't seen the movie yet, please don't troll me in the comment section. Anyway, it was fun to compare our theories about the characters until my boss got tired of hearing us yammer and finally said, "Are you guys geeking out about Star Wars?" and what else could we say but yes?
One of the things I had to do this morning was go through two weeks worth of mail. You know those big white buckets that the post office uses? A guy from the mailroom dumped an entire white bucket of mail on my desk. I think I've mentioned before that all unusual and orphan mail that no one knows what to do with comes to me (try to contain your jealousy). Which is how I became in possession of this:
My initial reaction to illustration (photo?) was, "HOLY SHIT WHAT IS THAT THING? IS THAT INSIDE OF ME? DO I EVEN WANT TO KNOW!?! GAHHHHHHHH!". I didn't read the article so I don't know what it means when jewel-encrusted pieces of Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch get sucked into a giant mouth wearing pink curlers. Apparently it has something to do with our lungs.
And while we're on the topic of disturbing pictures, I might as well include this food dish that I saw on a Russian friend's "VK" page (VK is like Russian Facebook):
I meant to ask my husband what this is, but I kind of don't want to know in case he asks me to fix it for him. I went back to my friend's wall post to find this recipe again so I could at least find out the name of the dish, but she appears to have deleted the recipe. And I feel awkward sending her a message: "Hey-- what was that dish you made that looks like an alien autopsy? I need to know so I can make fun of it on my website".
Last bit of ickiness for today is a text I sent to my friend Alanna last week:
I think it's telling that my first thought was that strangers would break into my house and screw in our bed. Thankfully I have sensible friends who help to remind me of common sense things like lotion. Of course, I still don't know who caused the stain but if I had to bet money, I would bet it was my son. Last June I wrote about finding brown stains on my pillow in this post and I immediately assumed poo (though it was actually an Oreo stain). This reminds me that I haven't ever finished writing my future hit single "Shit on My Pillow". For the "B" side, I'll have to write a new song. Maybe one entitled, "Baby Batter on my Blanket". I'm not thrilled with the title. Feel free to suggest something better. Your input is most welcome.
I'm the worst kind of asshole-- I think I'm funny.
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(Note--I only joined FB in January 2016. Come be my friend, if you want, and like my page before I get fed up with the whole thing and delete my FB account. Kidding. Maybe.)