I've mentioned here before that I have what I call "goober tendencies". That is, I have a tendency to be clumsy and accident-prone and absentminded. I like to think it's just part of my charm. For example, I think it takes REAL talent to give yourself a black eye by hitting yourself in the face with the car door (I wrote about that incident here in a "Not Safe for Work" post last January). My husband, son, boss, etc., would likely disagree about how charming my behavior is. Probably because they're the ones forced to spend the most amount of time with me. I can actually sympathize. I mean, I find myself being both amused and mortified by my own behavior and I'm the one doing it. Examples below:
Before we left on our recent trip to California I took my son to work with me for a half-day and this happened:
OK, the rain in the purse isn't actually an example of my goobnerness but more of an example of how the universe can be a bastard and make it rain BRIEFLY on a beautiful summer day. You know, just long enough to make the interior of my purse wet for the second time in one day.
This is a screenshot of a Census survey that I had to take:
That comment was from my friend David, who has known me for 31 years. He also replied to me after this incident last week:
You know what? If I wasn't worried about making my co-workers uncomfortable, it's actually an idea with merit. I mean, it's practical if nothing else. No more stained clothes! Just a quick wipe with a wet rag to clean up the tarp. What a time saver...
Recently The Bloggess, Jenny Lawson, wrote a post about being unable to find her ringing phone, which turned out to be in the pocket of her dress. I added this comment:
So in conclusion, I hope you've learned to feel sympathy for those of us who have trouble making our way in the world. It's not easy having goober tendencies. I cause myself a lot of extra work for no reason. The idea of having a chaperone with me at all times is rather appealing. Maybe I should put out a call for volunteers. Let me know if you're interested...
I live in the suburbs of our city. I don't live near a sports arena so it was surprising to see this when I got home from work yesterday:
Just to clarify, the bus stop is only like three houses down from where we live. I didn't drive any great distance to get there. And our street isn't heavily traveled so it's not like a lot of people could have seen me. Plus, I told my son this:
For real, I don't know how to differentiate between a "nightgown" and "house dress". I'm thinking pockets are the deciding factor. So yeah, I'm pretty sure I was wearing a house dress at the bus stop. In any case, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Next up are a couple of items that caught my attention yesterday:
What? Too gross? It's funny goddammit and you know it! Or at least the twelve-year old boy in me thinks so.
I saw this next item in a magazine:
This was my friend Christopher's response:
Who knows what's next? Fake buboes to mimic the Bubonic Plague? Nothing would surprise me. (Note-- "buboes" is a fun word to write and say. Too bad it has to describe such a disgusting thing. Instead it should describe something colorful and fun. "We ate jelly-filled buboes at the State Fair and boy were they delicious!").
Last thing for today is a text I sent to my boss right before his plane took off. I thought it was good advice for any of you who might travel frequently:
Feel free to share that tip with friends and loved ones. You're welcome!
I don't have an exact posting schedule for my blog but in general I try to do M-W-F (if possible). I didn't post anything yesterday (Monday) because I woke up in the morning and my world started spinning. That's not a metaphor for anything. My world was literally spinning. I'm not a doctor but according to the internet I suffered a temporary case of vertigo. I couldn't even Google my symptoms until last evening because for most of the day I couldn't look at a computer screen without wanting to barf. Seeing everything spin made me feel horribly nauseous. I had to turn off the overhead ceiling fan in my bedroom because it only added insult to injury. In the past, I've heard people mention that they had vertigo and I was like, "Well that sounds unpleasant". What a silly girl I was. IT IS A TORTUROUS FEELING THAT I WOULDN'T WISH ON MY WORST ENEMIES!". Wait, I probably WOULD in fact wish that feeling on my worst enemies. Forget waterboarding a terrorist suspect. Put that guy in an office chair and spin him for hours straight and I bet he'll spill his guts (literally and metaphorically). Thank goodness my son rides the school bus and I didn't have to drive him to school. Operating a motor vehicle was out of the question. Anyway, I went back to bed and slept for five hours and woke up feeling mostly normal. The spinning stopped but my brain felt like it was recovering from a migraine. By the evening I felt well enough to start on this post. I'm hoping (REALLY hoping) it was just a one-time thing.
Now back to our regularly scheduled nonsense. I got this email on Saturday:
I got this response from my friend Shawna (BTW, other comments below are also from her; damn that girl is funny):
My friend Ivory wrote back: "Wow.. Velma sure has fallen from grace after leaving the Scooby Doo gang...". I had to google Velma's last name because I couldn't remember it. It was Dinkley. So Guzman must be her stage name.
New topic-- my husband, son and I went to a local sporting event Saturday evening and I sent this text:
My husband and I were like, "Ugh, why didn't you cover that thing with a band-aid?! And why out of this entire stadium did you have to end up in front of us?".
I want to mention here that I could have enlarged the zit photo and made it fill the screen. That way you'd have been able to see the blemish in it's full glory, including the whitehead. But because I love you and want you to continue to come to my website, I declined to do so. Can I get an imaginary high-five right now? Thanks.
Then I sent this:
In the end I didn't send the photo although Shawna warned me that I would regret it on my deathbed. I'm sure she's right.
Last thing for today is this gem (which finally explains the title):
Of course I don't really know if the "denture adhesive on foreskin" was cause by a BJ. I guess it's possible that someone (a man obviously) could have been naked and accidentally got adhesive on his wiener (there's a lovely visual image for you). In any case, I'm sure this person was sorely disappointed when they ended up on my website. Unfortunately I have no helpful tips on how to remove any kind of adhesive from foreskin. Despite what you might have thought, I am not an expert on denture adhesives OR foreskins. Disappointing, I know.
It's Friday evening as I write this and I've gotta tell you that I was starting to feel like "Fuck it. It's the weekend. I'll write a new post on Monday." But as I thought about the various funny events of today and yesterday I was like, 'Oh FINE! I'll get off my lazy ass and throw something together". The key words to remember here are "throw together". Keep expectations low and your reading experience will be greatly enhanced.
So this was my first text of the day:
My friend Karen had this to say (and I apologize in advance if this makes you feel suspicious of the cleaning crew where you work):
At lunchtime I went to Sam's Club to just pick up a few items and the trip took much longer than it should have because I kept seeing things that made me laugh. Like this:
From my friend Ivory:
Again from Ivory:
Another friend, one who was on the Chicago trip mentioned above, had this idea:
These ribbons were prominently displaced on an aisle end-cap:
Lastly for today is a text I sent out last night while unloading groceries:
This was my friend Shawna's reply:
Of course my friend David had to make a smartass comment, "What about 'angina'-- that's not so great". I immediately heaped insults upon him and called him a "party pooper" and a "Grandpa". How dare he challenge my poorly crafted hypothesis?
I actually have more funny incidents from yesterday but I'll save those for another post. Examples of things we'll be discussing: "Why do kids think it's OK to eat food in the shitter?". Think about it and we'll discuss later.
Did I get your attention with the title? Good. Oh, and the use of the term "vagina" should clue you in that this is a "Not Safe For Work" post. There are no actual images of lady parts on display but some of the language might be a tad bit raunchy. You've been warned.
So last week this showed up in my Twitter feed:
So of course I immediately had this to say:
My friend Lydia had this to say:
And my friend Shawna (of the website No Trade Jack) had this response:
To which I responded:
If you're wondering, "Well Gina, who DOES have the world's most beautiful vagina?", I don't know. Each time I clicked on the link it took me to the Apple app store for some game. So I think it was probably not a legit article. By the way, I want to mention that I think I deserve some credit for reducing a part of the female body (a part that is much beloved and praised and revered) to it's most basic description by calling it a "skin tube". Quick-- somebody give me a literary award of some kind.
While on the topic of the female anatomy, here's a text I sent out this morning:
And as always, I have a pathological need to share shit like this so I can get funny responses. Once again Lydia and Shawna both made me laugh out loud:
First off-- totally valid point by Lydia. And to Shawna's question-- the answers are "I don't know". To all three questions. I hope the real answer is "no".
And because "lady parts" are the theme of the day, here's something that I did yesterday:
I was in fact wearing underwear, in case you were wondering. I always do. Otherwise my texts would have read, "OH MY GOD I JUST SHOWED MY GENITALS TO A NEIGHBOR!!! I THINK I MAY DIE FROM ACTUAL EMBARRASSMENT". Let this be a learning moment for all my readers. Always wear undergarments! Unless you're some kind of sick perv who likes showing off your junk to strangers. Then by all means carry on.
Full disclosure-- I used the words "part seventeen" above but I don't actually remember how many other times I've used the title "Kids Being Dicks" in past posts. Perhaps just once or twice. Maybe it just FEELS like I've written about this topic at least sixteen times in the past. It's a recurring theme in my life. By the way, my boss likes to say that kids are dicks but it's their parents who make them that way. There's probably some truth to that statement. In any case, here are some examples of what it's like to live in my world:
Dear future daughter-in-law -- I'm doing the best I can. Really and truly. He thinks farts are funny. And sometimes they are. But when my son farts into my pillow right before I go to bed, you know what? I fail to see the humor in that situation. I'm hoping and praying that when you are married he will leave the room and not pass gas in your presence. No guarantees though. (Which reminds me, one of my aunts told me long ago that she knew the honeymoon was over with her husband when he stopped stepping outside to fart. Ahhh, romance.)
We had this moment last week:
I have to tell you that no one in our house even DRINKS whiskey. We mostly buy wine and beer (along with the occasional bottle of vodka, which is a requirement since there is a Russian living in the household). Still he's already learned about whiskey and knows it's something that's not appropriate for kids. The stinker...
This next incident happened Friday night. If a seven-year old gets ahold of your iPad, activates the "voice to text" feature and then starts yelling nonsense words into the microphone, this is the result. My friend Ivory thought I was having a stroke or something:
Next is an example of how hard it is to get a decent photo of my child anywhere. He sees every photo-taking opportunity as a chance to be a comedian. Here's photo that I took in Napa:
At some point I could do an entire post of ruined photos. That is, photos that should have been nice but instead show my son making a goofy or insane expression on his face. It's pretty much 90% of my photo library.
Speaking of insane, read below about a bedtime fear that my son has developed:
Other kids are afraid of monsters under their bed. My kid is afraid of the "Hapsburg Jaw". That sounds about right.
OK, last thing is something that my son wrote on the second day of school last week. The teacher is trying to get to know all the kids so she had them fill out this sheet of paper.
In case it's hard to read, the part under the red arrow says, "I wish that no one is homeless". God love him. It breaks my heart. If you're wondering why he would even think of such a thing, when we were in San Francisco a couple of weeks ago we saw a HUGE number of homeless people. It really made an impression on all of us. My son saw a homeless man reach into a trashcan and pull out something to eat. We walked by a children's playground, which was FULL of little kids, and it was surrounded by homeless men sleeping on benches. At one point I saw a woman with a baby in a stroller next to group of homeless people and I never could tell if she was homeless herself or if she had just stopped to sit on a bench so that she could make a phone call. In any case, it was a good reminder to all of us to appreciate the blessings in our life. I guess the take-away from this post is that even when my son displays less than desirable behavior, I need to remember that at heart he's still a good little kid. Which is probably true for most of us...
So this happened today:
My friend Alanna texted this to me:
Just to clarify, the female winner (me) was supposed to just get the cape and the male winner the sword. However, I knew my son would LOSE HIS SHIT if he could have a sword like that (and I was right-- pic below). I wanted to make a deal with our company He-Man and trade the cape for the sword. Later I ran into the He-Man winner in the hall and he gave me the sword for my son without me even asking. Which was incredibly nice.
However, the day couldn't end on such a high note. I guess we have to balance the highs with the lows.
I didn't tell my son about the lost balloon but he immediately asked what happened to the icing on the cupcake. Which was non-existent. He did however lick the inside of the bag and told me that the icing (peanut butter flavored) wan't that great. Thankfully I had also brought home a piece of cake that won first prize in a dessert contest during the company barbecue. The name of the cake is Crack Cake. I think because it's so good you can't stop eating it. There is no actual crack in the recipe. I checked with the winner just to be sure. (I was a teeny bit disappointed only because I wanted to see words like, "OK to substitute cocaine for crack but use one third of the amount). This is is probably the only time I'll ever do this, but here is the recipe for Crack Cake. As soon as I saw that it uses store bought cake mix as the base I was like, "I'm in".
OK dear readers, time for me to tell you about my recent overindulgence at a winery in Napa, California. But first, so that you know the kind of drinker I am, here's a story I shared on the website foxywinepocket.com back in December. I'm too lazy to retype it; it was easier to just cut and paste:
Flash forward two decades. I am now in my 40's. I'm still not a big drinker but at least now I know not to mix different kinds of alcohol at one time. I love wine and champagne but I just need one glass (maybe two at the max) and then I ain't feelin' no pain. Any more than that and I don't feel so great. As I've gotten older, sometimes I almost feel like my body may forget how to breathe on it's own I drink too much. It's an unpleasant feeling. Anyway, the reason I was in Napa was so I could attend meetings for work. My husband and son came along so we could add on days to the trip and do some sightseeing in that part of the country.
So one evening the entire meeting group (close to 200 people) was bused from the hotel to a beautiful winery for dinner. And for wine tasting. I mean, I think that goes without saying. Here's a photo of my husband with a bunch of wine bottles in a row; it reminds me of Russian stacking dolls (matryoshki):
The wine at this place was fabulous. And many of the bottles were over $100, which is more than I've ever spent on a single bottle of wine in my life. I know I could have simply tasted the wine and then poured out the remainder, but that seemed sacrilegious to me. In my mind I was like, "When else will I get the chance to try a $175 bottle of wine? Never!". After we walked through the long tasting hall, more wine awaited us as we ate dinner. The servers brought around various vintages to try as we ate. Every five minutes someone was offering you wine. Did I want to try a vintage from the first year the winery was in business? Heck yes! Did I have the self control to say no to any of the servers? Oh hell no. Neither did my husband by the way. But his tolerance level for alcohol is much higher than mine.
Oh, I should mention that our son was with a babysitter that night. Do you want to know how much it costs to use a babysitting service in Napa Valley? For five hours, $135! Not including the tip. Clearly we all need to quit our jobs and become professional nannies in northern California. Thankfully one of my co-workers has a son who is a little older than my son (and our boys get along well) so we were able to split the childcare costs.
While at the winery I sent out this text:
As you can tell, I was still feeling pretty good at that point in the evening. However, an hour or so later, I sent this:
Why did I use the phrase "wine celibate"? Because I couldn't remember the word for sober. That is the honest-to-God truth.
The next morning when we had a break in the meeting I texted this update:
Here's the funny part, by late afternoon the next day I was feeling fine and we visited the Domaine Chandon Winery. I bought two small bottles of champagne which we drank that evening. And I was fine. So I was lying when I said I'd be wine celibate for the rest of my life. But I meant it at the time I wrote it! Now it's your turn to tell me about your worst or funniest drinking experiences in the comments section. If you want to. If it's still too horrible to remember, I completely understand..
Today I'm going to share some more funny incidents from our San Francisco trip but first I wanted to share this text from Saturday night:
My son would be the same way. If I told him, "Don't say 'suck me' -- it's not nice" he would have harassed me until he got a real answer.
OK, as you probably know by now, any time I see funny, absurd or strange things out in the world, I have a pathological need to share what I see with friends and family:
Another friend pointed out that I obviously had to take my phone into the bathroom in order to take the photo. I reminded this person that there is a HUGE difference between a cell phone pic and a phone that is permanently attached to the wall. Every time the toilet flushes all the germs get sprayed on the wall phone. Another scenario--someone has a BM, wipes and then picks up that handset. Bleh. And I bet you a million dollars that the cleaning staff doesn't disinfect the phone when they clean the room...
Last photo for today is an example of how my son is much more worldly than I was at his age:
By the way, I could tell ZERO DIFFERENCE between the Nestle water and the Evian water. My son may be a tad bit spoiled.
This weekend I uploaded our trip photos but haven't have a chace to sort through them. I still have more trip stories to share in future posts. Like having too much to drink at a winery one night. You'd think by my age I'd know how to control my alchohol consumption, but NOPE! Sad, I know...
My last post mentioned the "truck versus airplane" incident that happened at the Denver airport Tuesday evening. I thought I would share with you what happens if you find yourself as a media darling for five seconds. As soon as we landed at our home airport and I turned on my phone, I had 17 notifications on Twitter regarding the photo that I had taken. I mean, this was hardly a top news story and but this was the reaction I got:
I can only imagine the response if this had been an event that was worthy of the national news. I think my phone wold have blown up. Not literally. Although that in and of itself would be newsworthy: "Woman's iPhone blows up from notifications. Literally blows up. Apple is investigating this horrific event but currently has no explanation." What's funny is that my husband told me I should have asked for compensation for my photo. I had doubts as to the value of a photo that showed a catering truck on it's side. It was easier just to say yes to everyone.
OK, new topic. I recently wrote a post that showed a copy of the "Playboy Gourmet" cookbook. My friend Christopher sent me this response which I thought was hilarious:
I would have never noticed the JFK head in a million years. Once it's been pointed out to you it's like, "How did I miss the tiny head that is so obviously on display?". One friend disagreed and said the head looks more like Martin Sheen. It's hard to say...
This message from Christopher came in while my husband, son and I were waiting to board a boat to take us to Alcatraz (OK, that's a sentence you don't see very often). I haven't had a chance to download or sort through our Napa and San Francisco trip photos yet, so instead of a logical, chronological retelling of the funny incidents on our trip, I'll just be randomly sharing whatever comes to mind first. Which is pretty much how all my posts are written. Anyway, back to the Alcatraz theme. This happened:
I noticed this on the boat ride to Alcatraz:
Just to clarify, he's not thrilled about carrying my purse but he'll do it. Like all good husbands should...
This postcard was in the Alcatraz giftshop:
People have asked me how we liked Alcatraz and I've told them that we all three thought it was really interesting. And it was actually rather beautiful. Not the prison but the island. There's a wild beauty to it. Like this:
On that lovely image, I'll end this post. More trip memories to come...
The title of this post is a direct quote from my friend Ivory. It's something she told me in a text tonight. Read further and you'll find out why.
It's 1:30 AM Eastern Time (early Wednesday morning) as I write this. My family and I just got home from the airport. Full disclosure-- I showered before sitting down before the computer because cleanliness comes first; silliness second. We were in California for a week; Napa Valley (work stuff) and then San Francisco (vacation stuff). I hope to have some funny posts in the next few days as I cull through all my photos and texts. Don't worry-- I promise I won't write a boring travelogue.
Anyway, we left San Francisco this afternoon and our connecting flight to get home was in Denver. This this happened:
Don't worry-- no one was seriously hurt. My son witnessed the plane's wing (not our plane, the one next to us) hitting the service truck and tipping the truck over.
Within minutes it looked liked this:
The bad thing is that our flight was delayed out of San Francisco so we didn't have much time to catch our next flight. I was like, "Crap. Are we going to be stuck on this plane for a while and miss our connection"? The shitty part of me was more worried about missing our flight (the last one of the evening) than being worried about people being hurt. I suck sometimes. Thankfully we didn't have to wait too long.
While we waited to board the next flight I tweeted my photos to a local Denver news station. Within seconds another reporter from a different station asked to used my photos. So now I'm internet famous (not at all) in Denver tonight. Here's link to a news story that uses my REAL NAME (gulp) and photo. I wasn't sure if I should list it here but it's not like it's hard to link Twitter handles to real people. My secret identity was bound to come out someday:
Of course I was texting out photos to friends and my friend Ivory sent me this:
And another friend said this after reading the news article:
OK, that's it for this "quick and dirty" post. Sorry in advance for any typos or poorly written sentences. I"m a tired girl but I wanted to get this posted while it was fresh in my mind.
Hey guys-- have you missed me? 'Cause I've missed you. I'm still be busy for a few more days so my posts may be sporadic. I should have some good stories to share once l get back into my regular routine. I didn't feel sleepy this evening, so I thought I'd stay up late and type out a quick and dirty post while I had the chance.
You know how if you are in a situation where it is inappropriate to laugh, any incident is exponentially funnier than it would normally be? Yesterday I was in a large meeting room with 154 other people (in the freakin' first row I might add, but not by choice-- we had assigned seating) and my friend who-is-like-a-brother texted me with what should have been a simple question. He was sitting right next me and I got so tickled I couldn't look at him. I had to endure that horrible silent laughter that makes you shake internally. It's like slow torture. And all this because I couldn't be a decent person and give him a simple answer:
And do you know what? My friend (frenemy?) had the nerve to email the meeting organizer and copy me to the email:
Thankfully Mary has a good sense of humor but it was still a wee bit embarassing.
I have to mention that everyone complained about the chairs we had to sit in during the meeting. For four hours straight one day; two hours on another day.
I think I shifted positions every five minutes. There's just no way to sit comfortably in a chair like this (ladder backed? Not sure of the correct description). Thanks meeting-room furniture buyer for being a dick.
Later I found myself alone in the women's restoom and I sent out this text:
OK, new topic. My husband, son and I went out to dinner at a nice restaurant Saturday night. It was a place we'd never been before. We had 6:30PM reservations and we arrived 15 minutes early. The place was packed and we went to wait in a side room that had books for the customers to peruse:
When I saw the waiting room material, books such as The Odyssey, Don Quixote, and The Grapes of Wrath, I started to feel a little concerned about how long our wait would actually be.
Then I noticed this book:
Immediately I got back funny responses. First from my friend Ivory:
Then from my friend Alanna:
OK, I can't top those comments. Moments like these make me so thankful for my funny friends. They make my blog a better place.
I'm the worst kind of asshole-- I think I'm funny.
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