My mom called me yesterday all excited and said “I was at Bob Evans and met someone!”

 

I was like ‘So….do I have a new dad or what?”

 

No, she said “I met this guy who is going to remodel my bathroom. And it’s only going to be $15k. He came over and sat on the couch and pet the cat. And he LOVES cats.”

 

Me: “Ok–so you met someone at Bob Evans and let him come over your house? Tell me you did NOT write him a check! I don’t want to burst your bubble, but $15k for remodelling a small bathroom seems excessive….I think you can get an addition on your house for that.”

 

God help me.

 

 

I sent my significant other to the Men’s Warehouse to get a suit for his interview next week. He tells me it was $500, and the guy offered him a second one for $100.

 

So I said “Well, for that price you should have.” He said “No, don’t wear them, don’t need it.”

 

Being the practical one, I said “Well, maybe you should have taken your dad with you. He will probably need one.”

He said “For what?”

 

(before you read the next sentence, keep in mind that I have NO inner monologue, NO filter)

 

I said “For his funeral.”

 

Then I get dead silence and a look. No, there’s nothing wrong with his dad, but he is approaching 70. It’s time to start thinking of those things.

 

I said “Well, you know he’s getting up there in age. You don’t want to wait until it happens and have to pay full price.”

 

Listen, you don’t pass up a good sale. And you don’t want your dad to be buried in a 70′s powder blue polyester suit with wide lapels….

 

 

 

In my position, I host a lot of meetings. If you are in the same building, you are expected to join the group in the conference room instead of calling in on the conference line, which costs about $3 a minute per person. There were about 12 of us gathered in a conference room, all except for Frank, who called in on the conference line from his office. Frank is in some kind of marathon in like 3 weeks where he runs 100 miles in 24 hrs and people pledge money.

 

Well, the conference line is supposed to be reserved for people off site because it’s like $3 a minute.

 

So I said “Hey Frank, we’re all gathered in the Franklin Room. Why don’t you come down and join us?”

 

He said “Oh, I’m deeply immersed in work.” (Translation=looking at lawn furniture on Lowes.com)

 

I said “Gee, you run all these marathons, but yet you can’t find the energy to walk 200 feet to the conference room?”

 

DEAD SILENCE

 

Does anyone else see the metaphorical relationship with him running in circles for 24 hours and never accomplishing anything?

 

There’s this black cat hanging around at night for the past few weeks (that looks exactly like the one we have). I started feeling sorry for him because it looked like he got into a fight and his eye was infected. I have been feeding him (along with the other “strays”) for the past few weeks.

So Saturday night, this cat comes around. I thought–that’s it–I am taking this cat over to the  Vet Clinic before it loses it’s eye to an infection (thinking of Baby cat). So I get the cat cage out of the garage and I’m trying to stuff this cat in and it gets scared and runs away. And I’m really mad because I’m thinking ‘Irresponsible pet owners. How can they let this cat have an infected eye and not take it to the vet.”

The next day I am talking to the neighbor and am asking who the cat belongs to–she says ‘Oh, that’s Herker (sp?). He belongs to (the people in next block over 2 houses). The good news is he has a home. The bad news is that he has cancer and the eye issue is part of that. I about died. Can you imagine me taking their cat to the vet? It makes me wonder who the cat I “adopted” belongs to…maybe I should ask if that’s theirs too? Am I unwittingly adopting someone else’s pets?

Last night, my sister and her kids decided to stop by and visit. For an hour and a half. When I told her I would be wall papering. No, really, it’s NOT inconvenient. I just have lumpy wallpaper.

So the cat comes out to greet him and my nephew asks what his name is and I say “Obama”. My sister says to her son”OHH, you don’t have to call him that. You can call him something else. His name can be Tiger.” Apparently she has issues with our president. Long story short–this stray cat appeared around inauguration time, needed a name–pure black–out of creativity when we’ve had 5 strays THIS year–he became Obama.

WTF? I don’t come in your house and start renaming your pets because I don’t like their names! So when I come over your house now, I am going to call your mastiff “Brutus” instead of Roscoe (which sounds like something that should be chained up outside a trailer in Southern Alabama).

God help me.

Ok, every month they do a themed bulletin board at work such as “Diversity”. July’s theme is family reunions. I stopped to take a look at it, and most of it is questions posed to people such as “Do you celebrate family reunions–if so, what do you do?” and lets the author embellish on individuals family reunion practices along with pictures and recipes, etc….

Not sure who did this bulletin board, or who thought it would be appropriate to post pictures of a co-worker’s uncle in drag (bottom left hand corner). When would it ever be appropriate to post a picture of a man in drag (in a pink bustier!) in the middle of an office? I couldn’t even finish reading the story so I have no clue why he’s dressed as a cheap street walker.

I am afraid of next month’s theme….

After I saw my niece’s blonde highlights (and saw a few greys sprouting in my own hair), I decided to put some nice caramel colored highlights in my own hair.

I applied the mixture to my hair and started watching an episode of Alias while waiting patiently. Unfortunately, my watch stopped running (dead battery) so the 15 minutes it was supposed to be left on turned into 45ish. Yikes! My hair was now striped orange and yellow. I resolved myself to wearing a ponytail until last night when I decided to try to fix it to my original brown shade.

I picked up a box of 10 minute Loreal color and applied to my hair. Wow–it actually smelled good. After 10 minutes (I watched carefully), I washed out the color and started to put on the conditioner, which REALLY smelled. I noticed that I had mixed the color with the after color CONDITIONER, and was now applying DEVELOPER to my hair–YIKES.

Round 2: Second box of hair color, same night. My scalp is burning, but I read the directions this time. My hair is now red and black. Great. It will match perfect with those punks at the pool this weekend, but not so appropriate for a 30 something professional

I miss you NATALIE……………

My niece is taking a seminar entitled “Pet First Aid” at a local college. Over dinner last night, we asked her what she was learning in the class.

She said “Well, if you find an injured animal like one that got hit by a car, get a towel and a pair of pantyhose.” Okaaaay. Not even sure I own any pantyhose or that there is a formal dress code to pick up a cat in the street. So I asked what the pantyhose are for–she said “The instructor said that the first thing you do is take the pantyhose and put it over the cat’s head so it doesn’t bite you.” Put pantyhose over the cat’s head? Are you taking him to rob a bank and need to hide his identity? Okay–there is no scenario where that cat is going to willingly let you put pantyhose over its head where you are not going to be bitten or scratched. Can you imagine the trauma for this poor cat–he gets hit by a car and you try to suffocate it by putting pantyhose over its head?

When we got past our hysterical laughing, we asked about other scenarios of caring for injured pets. Surprisingly, all involved the pantyhose scenario.

I don’t know what my sister is thinking, but someone needs to report this teacher to the APL. So, for $110 and 4 hours, she learned what we already know–wrap the cat up in a towel and take it to the vet….. (or in her case, wrap the cat up and wait until her wicked step mom comes home and yells at her for trying to help a stray cat)

(yes, I did actually check this pantyhose theory out on several leading pet websites today regarding first aid, and NONE mention the use of pantyhose when capturing/transporting an injured animal).

Maybe she can enroll in something useful, like cooking?

Ironically, my sister called me later that day to say that their dog had an injured paw. Good luck putting pantyhose on the head of a 150lb mastiff!

Imagine trying to give him first aid

 

 

Sunday morning–I am running low on paint supplies, so I decide to head out to the local Lowes after grabbing my purse and keys. Apparently, I forgot one crucial step. While I was in the paint dept giving my samples to Mike the paint guy and explaining what I wanted, this woman is FRANTICALLY trying to get my attention (think of a 4 year old trying to interrupt your conversation). Finally, I turned to her and said ‘YES?” She said ‘I wanted to tell you that you have some paint on your face.” I said ‘I imagine that is INEVITABLE since I am painting today. I didn’t bother to check the mirror since I am coming to a home improvement warehouse and figured that no one would care.’ Her response? “Oh, I admire your ability to leave the house and not CARE what you look like.”

WTF???

So I looked in my car mirror, and see this minuscule (literally one millimeter) spot of yellow paint down by my jaw. REALLY? That bothered you that much?

In that case, she’s in the wrong store because half of the people look (and smell) like they haven’t showered in a week. I, too, admire my ability to wear jeans, no makeup, and a pony tail on the weekends because no one is expecting perfection at your local Lowes on a Sunday morning.

(she’s lucky she caught me on a good day and I just walked away)

Yesterday, I had the unfortunate experience of being a passenger in a car that was rear ended. We were stopped to turn left, and someone hit us from the rear…then proceeded to pass on the right berm, wave, and keep going.

I sprung into action–got 911 on the phone and yelled–follow him. So, Mr. JDJA—thank god that you are vain enough to have vanity plates. Without that helpful information that I was able to gather as you were speeding away from the scene, I doubt the police would have been able to show up at your house last night.

I hope leaving the scene of an accident was worth the 6 points on your license. You would think that a 34 year old male would be responsible enough to STOP and acknowledge that you have damaged someone’s vehicle and perhaps caused injury to the occupants.  So, instead of the usual 2 points, you get an additional 4 points (for a total of 6) for fleeing the scene. Hope they take your license away–you class A moron.

By the way, hope you enjoy our medical bills.