You know you've come to a classy place when the first image you see is the one above. "Why oh why", you're asking, "is hemorrhoid ointment the first image of this post?" Well kids, you'll just have to read further to find out.
Let me give you a recap of my day yesterday. This was my first text of the morning:
I have to mention that I was trying to get out the door to go to work, yet I was compelled to send these text messages first. Because it is very important that people know where I stand on the issue of ratty underwear. It's probably some kind of mental problem on my part that if I have a thought to share, I have to share it RIGHT THAT MOMENT or else it will fade away and be lost forever. Which is why my friends and family get emails and texts from me from early morning to late at night, weekdays and weekends. As you can see, the messages are of a very urgent and important nature. I feel a bit of pity for my recipients. But I haven't had my number blocked yet, so I guess they still love me. Or tolerate me.
I used my lunch hour yesterday to get a pedicure. I noticed this sign in the bathroom:
Now the image at the beginning makes sense doesn't it? I didn't want my non-American readers to be like, "What's Preparation H?" and then Google that name while at work. They would end up with a weird internet search history on their work computer because of me. I don't want anyone getting in trouble over hemorrhoid cream. You'd hate for that to be in your permanent personnel file forever: "Employee seems to have an unhealthy interest in the human anus".
After my pedicure I walked next door to check out a new thrift store that had opened. And I saw this:
You'll never again see Oscar the Grouch without thinking of these pillows.
There were more funny texts from yesterday but I think I'm going to save them for my next "Not-Safe-For-Work" post, which I may do later this week. Also, I'll be sure the words "NSFW" are prominently included in the title so you really and truly don't open the post at work. Of course my NSFW posts don't actually contain nudity; generally it's just my um, INTERPRETATION, of things that are inappropriate. Once again, I don't want anyone getting fired because of me. I'm thoughtful that way. Which helps to balance out all my other shitty characteristics.
The last thing for today is an item I saw online this past weekend. I'm always looking for a good bargain on boy's clothing and accessories.
My long-suffering husband was the original subject of this post and then I realized that I feel a little sorry for just about anyone who knows me and has to put up with my idiosyncrasies. I'll list various examples below and you can make up your own mind if the pity is warranted (you can also read past posts for other examples).
Such as this:
Of course, my husband's not perfect either. He's a pretty normal guy but he does the occasional odd thing:
I tried to find the Winnie-the-Pooh boxers so I could take a photo but I couldn't find them. They were gray with small images of Pooh scattered across them as the pattern. Here's something to help your imagination:
This past Friday morning I was a little late to work. I had to send this text to my boss:
I started thinking of all the places I'd been in the past few days. The thought of calling Trader Joes or my hair salon was embarrassing but then I remembered this:
By the way, I don't really know the correct spelling for my sister's security gowns. I wrote "pooh" because it seemed nicer than "poo". And I have to mention here the constant repetition of the word pooh in this post is not by design.
One friend had this to say:
I was hoping my coat was at work but no such luck. I even checked the trunk of my car. Just in case. Then this:
One of the nicknames that my husband has for me (which started back when we were dating) is which translates to "Masha who is always losing things". I lost a ridiculous number of gloves and umbrellas when I lived in Russia.
I realized that I even have pity for complete strangers who have contact with me.
So yeah, I have some annoying qualities. But at least I recognize them! I'm not being absentminded or annoying on purpose. It's just who I am. I've told people before, "Love me as I am, not as you would have me be". Which is probably good advice for everyone. Hey, I just realized that for once I'm doling out real and actual helpful advice. See-- coming here to my website isn't just a way to get a quick laugh. I'm helping you to be a better person. I should probably become a life coach or something. But if I'm honest, I would have to start all of my sessions with, "Do as I say, not as I do'...
Hey kids! It's time for another edition of "Funny Blog Friday". For your reading pleasure, today I will be sharing photos of things that I saw on a recent shopping trip to "Tuesday Morning" (a store which specializes in close-outs and overstock items).
First stop was the lawn and garden section:
Here's a better image of the sad Native American girl. By the look of her skin, I think she contracted smallpox from the European settlers. Which may be why she's sad. Totally legit reason by the way.
Next stop was the toy aisle. I didn't know that Mattel had come out with a "Mars Barbie".
This next item defies explanation:
Apparently yes, that's exactly what it is. I had to Google "Pinkie Cooper". She's supposed to be a Cocker Spaniel. Who loves fashion. And she's from St. Louis. Because we all know that the midwest of America is the fashion capital of the world. I don't know why she has a human body. The fucked-up-ness of this toy is overwhelming.
Then there was this:
I had to check the suggested age range online and it's supposed to be a toy for ages six and up. Because we don't want five-year-olds exposed light-up brains that can record your secrets. That's too young.
The name of this next toy is "Smell my Gak". This one is stinky-shoe scented. I was tempted to find a clerk and ask if they carried the fart-scented Gak because that's the one my son really wanted.
After an hour of getting my texts, one friend had the gall to send me this:
I have to say that Dolly Defensive sounds like one of the toys I might have seen that day in the toy section. Maybe a friend to Tammy Lamby LuLu.
Hey guys-- consider this your extra special BONUS post for the week. Since I plan to do a "Funny Blog Friday" post for Friday (tomorrow), I hadn't planned posting one today. However, yesterday there some funny incidents that I deemed shareworthy so I thought, "What the hell". I wrote this post last night with the intention of posting it on Sunday. But then I thought what if, God forbid, I should leave this world before getting to share these funny (OK, semi-funny) things with you all? What a tragedy that would be.
I often run errands on my lunch hour. Yesterday was no different:
After reading that I wanted to stick my fingers in my ears and go "La-la-la, bad things never happen in suburbia". They do of course. Also, the smelling incident really did happen at Walmart about a year ago. The perpetrator was a man in a dark blue t-shirt covered with greasy stains. I mean, he told me I smelled lovely, which was nice, but still weird. Then I kept running into him throughout the store and it set of my "stranger danger" alarm. Nothing happened thank goodness.
OK, this next thing is not hilarious by any means but it made me stop and take notice:
In my experience, it seems like the "sell by" dates on eggs are usually about two to three weeks out. These eggs are good for another six weeks. That doesn't seem quite right to me.
After putting away my groceries, I met my son at the bus stop and this happened:
I don't know if this guy was homeless or just mentally unstable. We live so far out in the suburbs, I'd be surprised if it was a homeless person. The homeless population tends to stay downtown, since that's where all the social services are located. By the way, even though I text all the time, I'm actually really bad at typing on the tiny keyboard of my phone. Instead I generally use "voice to text" to dictate my messages. So I really was saying the word "hobo" out loud multiple times.
This last thing is a funny story courtesy of my friend Ivory. I got her permission to post it. It's borderline safe for work, just FYI. My posts should probably come with a letter like the movie rating system. Most posts would probably be rated "R" with a few "NC-17" sprinkled in.
Let me start today's post by expressing my dissatisfaction with the internal dictionary of my iPhone (and yes, I know this qualifies as a "first world" problem). I sent this text today:
I had to Google the word "poutine" because even though I knew it was a food of some kind, I'm not a freaking chef. I thought the iPhone was supposed to "learn" your commonly used words. I have never in my life written or uttered the would "poutine". Before today that is.
In a similar vein, I sent this:
Just recently I started making the effort to add words to the iPhone custom dictionary. My husband's Russian name was always being changed to "Bologna" when I would send messages, and although funny, it was more annoying than amusing. I've also added the names "Lady Sparkletits" (see two posts back for explanation) and "Lord Cameltoe" because of the text below. A celebrity couple was in town was last week; they received a lot of local media attention. I joked that I was going to crash some of the events that they were attending. My friend Ivory encouraged me to try. I should mention here that she has a special way with names:
Like Ivory, I love crazy and unusual names. I'm prone to giving silly nicknames to people I like. I also give them to people I don't particularly like. You know how in life sometimes you meet someone and no matter how much you try to get along with that person, it's like trying to mix oil and water? That's an apt description of me and a certain woman I know. And let me say that years ago I initially made a good faith effort to be nice to her. But now I've reached that point of "Fuck it-- I don't like you, you don't like me". Which is why I've given her this nickname:
In case you can't figure it out, the * is replacing the letter "u". Because I'm all classy that way. Do I hold a grudge if someone has wronged me? Yes. Yes I do. If you knew the backstory, you would totally be on my side. Trust me on this.
New topic. My son had his first soccer practice of the season last night. On the drive to practice I saw this sticker on the back of a car:
I mean, it's funny, but is this really the statement, the worldview, you want to express? I think we all pretty much know that those two items complement each other well. When I tried to save the poo photo, this happened:
The drive to soccer practice is 15 to 20 minutes long. During the commute I had this conversation with my seven year old:
My son has a new soccer coach this season. I think she'll be a good coach, though she seems a bit strict. I sent a photo of her (not included here for the sake of her privacy) and this:
I mean, we live south of the Mason-Dixon line and "ya'll" is an accepted form of speech, but this lady was laying it on too thick. I couldn't help but think of this tweet:
The coach did one thing that I thought was funny:
That last line made me laugh out loud. I was thinking that "tater tot" could be one of my new silly nicknames but adding the F word to the beginning changes everything. Maybe I'll start yelling that to my boss when I need him.
I was just now getting ready to publish this post but this happened and I thought it was shareworthy.
One last thing-- I went to the store "Tuesday Morning" yesterday to look for one specific item. As usual, I ended up photographing funny and weird items all throughout the store. And then texting those photos to my usual recipients (victims). I keep waiting for the day when the store manger stops me and says, "M'am, the other customers are disturbed by your behavior. Please quit taking photos of things and then laughing maniacally." This Friday is another edition of "Funny Blog Friday" so I'm going to save those images for that post. I wanted you to know so you'd have something to look forward to. And so you'd come back on Friday. I'm shameless that way.
My son will have soccer practice on Monday nights for the next few months. Which made me realize a little while ago that I won't have time to write a post tomorrow. Which made me pull together this post in record time. If it feels slapped together, you're right-- it totally is. As usual, I'm just sharing random things that made me laugh.
Hey guys-- who wants to hear about my weekend? If you're continuing to read this, I take that as a "yes". Let me begin by telling you about my awesome trip to the grocery store on Friday.
The guilty party, a woman, saw me taking a photo of her car. I didn't even try to hide what I was doing. I was like, "Fuck it, if you are going to be such a bad parker, you deserve to be photographed."
I would add to that statement that wealthy, overprivileged white women are also amongst the meanest people you'll ever meet. That was my experience anyway.
This next thing from Friday made me literally do a spit-take when I read it. I'm not exaggerating. I had a mouth full of water which I sprayed all over my laptop. It was a suggestion from Twitter on who they think I should follow;
It was the name combined with the photo that pushed me into hysteria. I'm sure it's a joke account and probably a fake name. Although I have to say if "McTurd" is a real last name, there's nothing you can add to it to make it sound better. Might as well go with "Dirt".
These next texts are from today:
This is not the first time I've done this. Hence my opinion on the Mother-of-the-Year nomination.
This is tagged as another example of "kids being dicks".
Lastly is a text from a friend that literally made me laugh out loud. She has a four-year-old. I saved the best text for last:
This week has been non-stop activity at work as today we had one of our big "Very Important Meetings" (not actual name) that we have quarterly. These are the meetings that require me to be polite and act professional. The stress of all that "acting" wears me out. I've written here about my terrible compulsion to stand up and yell "F*ck you all motherf*ckers" during one of these meetings. I don't know why. It's all over now and I'm exhausted so keep your expectations low on the humor quality of this post. After I got home from work and it was time to meet my son at the bus stop, I nearly backed out the the garage without opening the garage door first. So yeah, I've reached that level of tiredness. Of course, it could also just be my goober tendencies. Hard to say.
Last night we had a fancy dinner as part of this meeting. Name tags were used for the guests at the dinner:
I mentioned recently that "Tootie McTootypants" is one of my nicknames for my boss. I just like the pure silliness of how it sounds. I have to say that quite a few people I texted didn't get the Turd Ferguson reference. I was like, "Whaaaaaaaaat? It's best parody ever of the game show Jeopardy!". It was a skit on Saturday Night Live. If you Google it you can find a bunch of old clips to peruse.
The next response to my Lady Sparketits name tag came from a relative. A relative who is no longer included in my will I should add.
I told my boss I would wear the Lady Sparkletits name tag to the dinner if he'd give me a $1,000 but for some odd reason he declined. Also, I just realized that my price tag for public humiliation is only $1,000. It's probably such a low number because I do it for free all the time.
New topic-- on Tuesday, St. Patrick's Day, I had this Lync conversation with my friend the IT Dude:
I actually don't match my clothes to my bodily fluids. I know I have some weird, quircky aspects to my personality but I don't really do that. Just so you know.
My text exchange with the IT dude continued and his unexpected question made me laugh out loud:
Apparently the game is about a goat that causes mayhem and destruction. As for a "goat STIMULATOR", I don't know if such a thing exists and I'm afraid to Google it. By the way, I can guarantee you that I will now be getting weird porn search queries because of the goat mention. Oh well. As it turns out, just about any random word I write in a post ends up being connected to porn searches. I've resigned myself that this is just how the internet works.
Last thing I have for you today is this:
Aren't we all hypocrites? When you're walking in a parking lot and someone nearly mows you down, don't you think, "Hey, pedestrians have the right of way!" But the minute you're driving and someone is poking along and taking too long to cross in front of you, it's like, "Stupid pedestrian. Hurry up already." By the way, I think I really do have some kind of spatial disability (undiagnosed). I'm notoriously bad at backing up. I've joked before that if we have to pass a parallel parking test to get into heaven (and don't ask me why this would be required), I'm pretty much screwed.
Hey bitches (and I mean bitches as a term of endearment; also my son just walked up to the computer, read the first two words and said, "That's not appropriate"). Anyway bitches, I'm writing this while OUTSIDE on my back deck. I sent this text not too long ago:
OK, full disclosure. We're outside all right, but I'm hunched over the laptop on a table that's too low to be writing on. When I tried writing on my lap, I found the inability to use the mouse annoying. But what the hell. I'm barefoot and my kid is running around in shorts in the backyard. Today will be the warmest day of the week. We're going to enjoy the warmth while it lasts.
I should probably start a weekly post entitled, "Shit my kid says about his wiener". It's a never-ending topic in our house. I mean, he thinks of questions that I would never think of in a million years. This was from last night:
This is true, but he's only seven so he still needs help washing and rinsing his hair. Not too long ago I had him do it himself and he used like half the bottle of shampoo and it took half an hour to rinse the suds out. Also, he still does a really half-assed job of washing himself. He's more interested in playing with his toys (or his junk it would seem) than actually bathing himself.
I also got this response from a friend (be forewarned that there are all sorts of typos and missing words; this is real life people. This is what texting looks like):
I have to stop here and explain this reference. Years ago my friend Judy had to help clear out the house of a deceased relative (her husband's cousin). The deceased man had been a teacher at a local community college and had never married. Judy and her husband found a HUGE amount of pornography in this man's home. Like enough to fill up the back of Judy's husband's pickup truck. I remember that we laughed at this idea-- what if her husband had got rear-ended and all that porn came spilling out onto the road? How could you possibly explain yourself: "Really officer. It's not mine."
Perhaps I should be a bit embarrassed that anytime someone sees or thinks of something weird or inappropriate, they think of me and this blog. It actually makes me happy though. I'm always looking for fresh material. I'll take whatever you've got. Anyway, I just want to go on record as saying that the name "Pokiehontas" is the best blow-up sex doll name. Ever. Judy said that the doll had braids but she didn't remember if she looked Native American or not. This text conversation occurred during the afternoon at work and I ended up laughing hysterically while all alone in my office. I sometimes wonder if my co-workers who walk by and see my laughing alone wonder about my sanity. It's a legit question on their part.
This afternoon I had this memory for God know what reason (again, typos ahead):
This was a conversation I had with my boss by the way. Yes, I called him a fool. He's been called worse though. My usual nickname is "Worthless Bastard". But he knows I say it with love. A few years ago I thought up a newer nickname which is "Tootie McTootiepants". Not because he passes gas in front of me or anything. Just because it's so silly. We've worked together over 18 years. After a while you just become like family. Which is both good and bad.
Last thing is something I saw at Trader Joe's today:
And there was this response:
Agreed. Why take two perfectly good food products and ruin them by putting them together? One friend wrote back, "Someone got this for me and I would have to say that I did not love it." Which I think is her polite way of saying it sucked. However, if you were invited to a party where you didn't like the host or hostess (like a work function or something) this would be a good gift to bring. If you wanted to be a bastard that way. :)
I have to tell you that as I write this, it's Friday after work (after a LONG week) and my brain is fried and I really just want to sit on my ass and drink wine and watch Netflix. But at the same time I want to share a few random, funny incidents from the past few days. So I've decided to suck it up and throw together a quick post. I realized that I just need to "copy and paste" a bunch of text messages which doesn't involve a lot of mental effort on my part. Which is good, because I have very little to give at this point.
On Wednesday I woke up to find an unusual bruise on my shoulder:
Full disclosure-- I'm clumsy and bruise easily so I'm sure I injured myself in some way. I just have no idea how.
Yesterday at work I received an email from a travel agent that we sometimes use. She's a really nice lady. Otherwise the following incident could have been much more embarrassing. The travel agent had asked me a question about an upcoming trip for my boss. This is what I wrote:
Moments like this make me think I shouldn't have contact with people outside of our company. She wrote me back that she's 5'7", so she's not really short. I told her in the future I would call her "Shawty" and it would be a term of endearment. Thank God I didn't accidentally send this to a short-statured man. He would probably think I was being a passive-aggressive bitch. Which I can be sometimes. Not this time though...
I've mentioned previously that I like the books and TV series, "Game of Thrones". My husband doesn't like Sci-Fi or Fantasy but he does like "Game of Thrones". The most recent season just came out on DVD so we restarted our Netflix DVD account so we could watch it. The first discs arrived Wednesday. That evening my husband and I were looking forward to FINALLY watching season four. However, because Murphy's Law is a real and living law, our DVD player turned out to be completely dead. It was so disappointing. I knew I'd have to run out at lunchtime the next day and buy a new one. We did a bit of quick research online and I purchased a Sony player at the Walmart right down the road from my work so it would be ready for pick-up the next day. Once I got to Walmart, I sent this series of texts:
The displays of Easter Candy were already out so I decided to do some shopping for my son's Easter basket. I truly hope I don't offend anyone with these next texts but the overwhelming response I got back about the "chocolate cross" below was "WTF?".
While on still on the subject of religion, these Hanukkah candles for sale caught my eye. This was in the "ethnic" food aisle:
If you came to Walmart with the sole purpose of buying Hanukkah candles, you could probably walk every aisle in the store and never find these. Wouldn't this make for an awesome mission on a game show? "Contestants--you have ONE MINUTE to find the Hanukkah candles in this Walmart store! On your mark, get set... GO!"
Later I saw a woman looking for someone to help her in the paint section. I noticed this sign above her head and I had to laugh:
This last text is about a seemingly nice woman, probably in her early 50's, who stopped me:
She touched my bare arm, not my sleeve. I prefer to save skin-to-skin contact for loved ones. Perhaps I'm just funny that way...
I want to warn you right away that today's post is full of completely unrelated random nonsense. I know that most (read: normal) people write blog posts about one particular topic (and sometimes I try to do that too) but today everything I'm writing about is just random. There's no other way to describe it. I can't even find one particular theme to tie it all together. So sorry about that. However, where else can you can read about snowmen with loose bowels or items for sale such as the "ass bra"? This is a special place. You're welcome.
This morning I sent this text:
Yes, I put a "hee-hee" after writing that my husband was detained by security. It's not the fact that he was detained; it was the fact that a stupid stuffed animal caused him to be viewed as a potential terrorist threat. Also, just as an FYI, I don't collect stuffed animals or anything. I've just always loved the Russian children's character "Cheburashka". This is completely unrelated, but one of funniest things I've ever seen in my life was a clip on YouTube where someone in Russia took the show "Cheburashka" and dubbed in the most filthy, vile language instead of the usual cute words you'd hear. If it had English subtitles, I would include a link so you could see it yourself. It would like be hearing Winnie-the-Pooh speaking in the voice of Samuel L. Jackson: "I have a rumbly in my tummy motherfuckas".
Last night I sent this text:
I can't even really make fun of him for getting excited about lunch because I know I'm the same way (and aren't we all, really?). For example if I have lunch plans to eat Thai food with my friend Marge, that whole morning I'm like: "Hooray Thai food! And yay I get to spend an hour with Marge!". Truly it is the little things in life that make us happy.
Now that winter is almost to an end, I've been trying to keep an eye on end-of-the-season sales so I can put back winter clothes for my son for next year.
Here's a better view of what Amazon suggested for me:
So apparently ass bras are a thing. Who knew?
The following incident happened Monday afternoon at work. I was compelled to send this email:
Sent: March 09, 2015 2:35 PM
Subject: This is just mean
From a distance saw a red box on the Marketing food table. Thought it was a box of cookies or something. Was like, “Yay sugar!”. How wrong I was. What kind of a**hole would do this?
What's funny is that one of my email recipients had also seen this earlier and had the same "Yay food!" reaction. So it wasn't just me who was disappointed. I should have complained to HR or something (kidding).
Last week our fair city received a shit-ton (approximately) of snow. On Saturday my husband and son made a snowman in the backyard. I usually like to do that kind of stuff, but after shoveling the before mentioned shit-ton of snow from our driveway on Thursday and Friday, I had no more desire to play in the snow. One of our neighbors, in a feat of engineering genius, built a cool snow "arch" that you had to walk through to get to the front door. We saw another house that built FOUR separate large snowmen and each one was decorated creatively. There was even a "pirate" snowman which was our favorite. Here's what our snowman looked like:
Our snowman had twigs for arms and a spinning wheel as a hat. And he looked like he need to wear adult diapers. Someone suggested hanging toilet paper from his arms. I thought that was a clever idea but my son didn't see the humor; he was embarrassed by the brown at the bottom of the snowman. I thought it was funny. But then again, I have the sense of humor of a twelve-year old boy, so yeah...
I've mentioned in previous posts that sometimes I think it's a cruel cosmic joke that I, a person with little to no experience with boys, was given a son to raise. It has been a learning experience from day one. This past weekend my husband and I turned on Netflix after we put our son to bed for the night. Imagine our surprise when these images showed up:
Our son is seven. He just turned seven in December. I thought this was something I'd have to worry about when he was a teenager. I sent this text:
Another friend had this response:
As I look back on past incidents, I really shouldn't be surprised by his foray into soft-core porn on Netflix.
If any of you have any hints or advice on how to deal with a curious little boy who loves the female body, let me know. I don't want to squash his natural curiosity and I don't want him to think sex is wrong or dirty; at the same time I don't want him watching soft-core porn. I was watching "Mr. Rodgers Neighborhood" and "Sesame Street" at seven. I swear I wan't even thinking about boy parts at that age. I used to think it was an exaggeration when people would say things like, "Parenting is the hardest job in the world". What a fool I was. Those people were telling the truth! Be warned you young readers without kids. Heed my words! "Parenting is the hardest job in the world". It's the truth ya'll.
Today is the third day in a row that school has been closed because of snow. We live south of the Mason-Dixon line ya'll. We are poorly prepared to deal with snow like this:
I'm an introvert by nature but after three days of being housebound I finally reached a point where I needed to get out of the house and be around other humans (besides my son). I just sent this text moments ago:
I'm sitting on the hard floor using a chair as my desk as I write on my laptop. It's uncomfortable but I thought I might as well work on a post while I kill time. You're welcome you lovely readers.
I'm going to share with you some texts I sent yesterday because I think they're funny. I had my doubts about posting these because they touch on religion. I don't want to offend anyone; I just want people to laugh when they visit here.
Just so you know, I am completely open-minded about religion; I think every person has their own path to God. The book I mention below made me realize that the way I was taught about religion as a child in no way AT ALL mirrors the historical Jesus and how he would have looked.
The angels remind me of the blond police officer on the 70's TV show CHiPs:
There was also a Nativity scene included in the book:
I was thinking about this as I fell asleep last night. I sent this text this morning:
I wish I was exaggerating about that but I'm not. I also get a LOT of hits for naked Russians. So yeah, make of that what you will...
I also sent this text this morning:
Before I start with my usual nonsense, I wanted to let everyone know that I am STILL being plagued by the spammers from India. I've put in two different help-desk tickets with Weebly (my website administrator) but they say there's no way to block the ISP address of these assholes. Which means every night I have to "close" all comments when I go to bed (around 10 or 11 PM, Eastern Time) and them "reopen" them in the morning around 8AM or so. The Indian spammers are usually still making attempts past 7AM. It's incredibly frustrating and annoying. Most of my readers from are from the US and Canada but I do have some regulars from Australia and New Zealand (pretty cool, right?). Perhaps occasionally they would like to leave a comment but because of those asshat spammers they are unable to do so. I keep thinking the spammers will eventually get tired of making attempts but no luck so far. I hope karma will repay them with repeated bouts of explosive diarrhea. Which I hope hits them when they are on a crowded airplane while the "fasten seat-belt" sign is on and they aren't allowed to leave their seats.
My last post was Monday afternoon which I wrote in my nightgown. Flash forward two days and I once again find myself writing on my laptop in my jammies. I sent this text a little while ago:
I also sent this text message today:
This is a legit helpful hint by the way. You're welcome.
Yesterday morning I had my annual mammogram (yippee!) before I went to work. I sent this text (and don't judge me for my lack of knowledge regarding baseball/sexual terminology)::
The technician (read: COMPLETE STRANGER) was a woman in her sixties. It feels weird to think of her getting to second base with me. She was really nice, don't get me wrong. It was just that she was probably old enough to be my Mom which makes the second base reference feel weird and pervy.
Anyway, I sent several people messages joking about my new female love interest. I got this response from my boss:
My boss and I have worked together for 18 years. We are like family at this point. Which is why we have email conversations like the one below. I'll spare you the entire email string and just share the funny parts:
From: The Boss
Sent: Wednesday, February 25, 2015 1:29 PM
Subject: Re: Annoying
Your convenient loss of your sense of irony is almost as annoying as the string. IJS.
On Feb 25, 2015 Gina wrote:
Ugh-- why do you always write "IJS". You know I read it as "I just shit". Quit telling me that weirdo. I don't need to know these things!!!
At least I don't tell you when I've just had a bowel movement. Who's weird now?
Actually you do. Weirdo.
I've never told you when I've had a BM. NEVER!!!
I know what my boss was referring to though. It was an email I had sent just the day before:
On Feb 24, 2015 Gina wrote:
Unrelated, I was going to email you to see if I could leave soon and work from home the remainder of the day. I could tell you why but you would definitely be like, “TMI!”.
P.S.-- Oh, I don’t have the shits, if that’s what you’re thinking.
I thought it was a completely legitimate thing to tell him. As you can tell we've reached a comfortable point in our relationship. By the way, I got his permission before I posted our conversation.
Regarding the text slang "IJS" I really do read it as "I just shit". Now you will too. I also don't like the word "ROFL" because one time I read that it sounds like Scooby Doo saying "waffle". Now that's how I always read it. I also don't use "LOL" in texts or emails but prefer "Ha!" or something similar. When I see "LOL" I think "loll". One of the definitions of "loll" is: "stick out (one's tongue) so that it hangs loosely out of the mouth." I imagine people doing that when they write "LOL" which seems weird and not funny at all. Maybe it's just me...
It's early in the afternoon on Monday as I write this. I'm still in my pajamas (and it's as awesome as you might imagine) because I stayed home from work today. I started feeling poorly Saturday night-- you know that feeling when you start to ache all over, even your eyes? That's how I feel. No fever though, so I'm not desperately ill or anything like that. Still, if this post turns out to be a stinkeroo, I'm totally blaming it on not feeling well. "Of course it was a unfunny post-- I was SICK when I wrote it." Hmmmm, this is an excuse that may come in handy in the future.
I know I pulled you in with the title (which were actual words spoken by the way) but first I want to share this text I sent last evening:
Do others suffer from this same problem? Insane random questions that pop up out of nowhere? At least I didn't wake up in the middle of the night with the Shinola question in my brain. I would have had to look it up on the iPad (which is always by my bed so we can listen to relaxing ocean waves -- and so I can look up random things on the internet if necessary).
Earlier today I was looking for a photo on my phone and I ran across this saved text message between me and a female family member. The conversation was back in September so I no longer remember what we were discussing regarding men and their behavior:
I don't know what magazine the Kroger masturbator was looking at -- probably something like the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. Of course, people are weird so it could have been something like "Cat Fancy" or "Vegetarian Times". The magazine memory reminded me of an incident during my time in Russia (and will explain the post title).
By now, I've mentioned my dear Russian friend Natasha many times. This is what she looked like when we first met:
Natasha and I are the same age (just one month apart) and we both grew up with rather sheltered childhoods. Natasha told me she was 16 before she learned about the birds and the bees. I was younger when I learned the facts of life but still sex and men were unfamiliar territory for me even as a young woman. Natasha and I decided that at age 21 we had not seen enough examples of, how should I say this, boy parts. We decided we needed to remedy this problem. Let me remind you that this was before Internet porn, people. Still, the fall of the Soviet Union had allowed some of the evil influences of the West to infiltrate the country. Near one metro station a bunch of kiosks had sprung up selling porn magazines on tables. So one time Natasha and I start looking at these magazines to see if we could find any with with photos of naked men in them. I have to mention here that we stuck out like a sore thumb, since all of these kiosks were staffed by men and the clientele was nothing but men. And us. The magazines we looked at were very tame. Natasha called it erotica, which is what it was. Finally, as we went from table to table, Natasha started asking, "Excuse me-- do you have erotica or pornography for sale?" I remember the looks on the faces of these men were just shocked. One guy didn't say anything at first but looked the two of us over and finally said, "Come here around back and I'll show you some pornography". We declined because it was obvious he wasn't talking about magazines. In the end we found nothing. So on my next trip to Russia I brought a Playgirl magazine for Natasha to have. I remember I felt kind of nervous bringing in in my suitcase because the customs rules at that time still prohibited Bibles and pornography. Which always seemed like a weird combination to me. I wondered what would happen if I came to Russia with a suitcase full of Bibles and porn and which item would get me in more trouble. The Playgirl must have been a Christmas issue because it had a centerfold of a man dressed in a Santa suit. Which he removed. I always remember a shot of the guy with only a Santa hat on his head and his legs spread wide apart. Natasha looked at him and said, "Now that's a Santa Claus".
I'm the worst kind of asshole-- I think I'm funny.
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