Wednesday, March 4, 2015

is that a frampton reference in MY STORE

Image result for smart gif

I have read pieces in multiple places recently that are praising Carly Rae Jeppsen's new song "I Really Like You," and they're all just having babies about it, and guys, the song is not that great.  It's not that catchy, the repetition is excessive even for a pop song, and the bottom line is, "Call Me Maybe" it ain't.  And speaking of excessive repetition, "Shake It Off" was hard for me because of the hate hate hate, play play play, shake shake shake stuff going on in it ("Blank Space" is a far superior song), but THEN?  Then we come to the spoken work/"rap" section of it and I almost collapse into myself like a dying star because of projected embarrassment.  I can't listen to it.  I can't.

I mean, I'm no music critic, and I can't offer a nuanced rebuttal to the people who think those songs are so so great, but I know what I like and the rest of America is just being dumb.  

Friday, February 27, 2015

just one damn minute, admiral

Tonight I'm going to make my kids watch "City on the Edge of Forever" and they're going to be bored and unappreciative and I'm going to cry about Leonard Nimoy, my second and always great love (Larry Hagman was the first) and it's going to be great.

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

no one could make that ram scram, he kept buttin' that dam

My sisters (except the youngest, who is still in Guatemala) and mom and I got pedicures the other day, and the only place that could take all of us was the nail place inside the local Walmart, which I felt conflicted about, but I guess the nail place is independently owned?  Or something like that, and I didn't want to be the douchebag who wouldn't go get her toes done with her family because of her impotent boycott, so I went and was glad I did, because even though it was a total dive they had massage chairs.  The only real drawback, other than indirectly benefiting Walmart's bottom line, was that when I told the lady I wanted a lightning design on my big toenails she made some sort of grassy thing, which is not lightning.  It's pretty in a motorhome-upholstery sort of way, but not what I wanted.  But I certainly wasn't going to complain, because why do I need to throw poop into that lady's day?  I don't.

Crap, I just looked at the clock and realized that I only have a couple more hours before the kids get home, and I haven't showered or anything.  It's so hard to get up the gumption to take a shower when you're already halfway through the day.  Speaking of gumption, I have none, so on Mondays and Wednesdays I just start out the day in exercise clothes, like I just get right into them after my shower, because I have learned to my sorrow that a big barrier in my pursuit of physical fitness is my dislike of basically having to reboot the day--you've already gotten ready once, but then you have to change your clothes, get all sweaty, then go home and shower and get dressed and do your hair all over again, including washing your hair because now it's all sweaty!  Barf!  I try on easily about eleven outfits every Sunday before church in my attempt to strike the proper balance between dressy and comfortable, but during the week I do not want to be putting on and taking off clothes and redoing my hair.  So I just wear exercise clothes all day on Monday and Wednesday, do my sad little physical activity at night, then sleep in my sweat like a grody troll, and shower and wash my hair the next morning.  You may borrow this approach for your own life if you wish.

Monday, February 23, 2015

your new hat looks like something my horse dropped behind him

I was out at the school today doing my reading tutor thing, and I got a new girl who has been coming all year, but to a different tutor.  We went through the sight words and the reading passage, and I was a little taken aback by how many of the words she didn't know--typically they don't have too much trouble, because they're very carefully observed and placed on a level that will help them feel challenged but not overwhelmed.  Then we opened up the book she'd been reading and I was like WHAT.  She made a mistake on almost every word, and I could suddenly understand why it was that she had no idea what was going on in the book when I had asked her to retell what had been happening in the story thus far.  It made me pretty irritated, because what the crap was her last tutor doing?  Had she even been listening?  How are these kids supposed to get better if nobody even does their freaking job?  We only have a brief moment to help these kids, and if we blow it they go through the rest of their lives with a huge handicap.

To make it worse, she was reading a Junie B. Jones book.  I've seen these books before but none of my kids have ever read them and thank goodness for that, because they are garbage.  You know how there's supposedly a study that shows that people are stupider after watching Spongebob?  I would like to do that same study with Junie B. Jones books.  I hate all those Wimpy Kid and Captain Underpants books because they are so beneath any child with a brain or an actual sense of humor, but this Junie B. Jones stuff is in a class by itself.  Just horrific.  I am boiling right now.  So I got her a different book that was closer to where I think she might actually be, and we'll see how she does next time.

Shingles is not so bad, whether because of the herpes meds or the weird potions and ointments I got from the witch doctor.  I just have a little patch of scabby grossness on my neck, and it itches a little bit.  Feeling pretty lucky after the horror stories I've heard.

Friday, February 20, 2015

forever unclean


So I'm just taking the same medicine they prescribe for genital herpes, NBD.  What even is happening to my life.  I guess maybe I'm a lot more stressed out than I thought I was--could it be my experiment that I told you about?  It is not VERY stressful, but it is more stressful than some other things like sitting and watching Arrested Development while I drink hot chocolate.


What if the babies get my plague?

Boy, if I didn't already have shingles, I'm plenty freaked out now to bring on a raging case.

Thursday, February 19, 2015

what about this, this cannot be cheese

People who justify rudeness as candor or honesty are gross.  I am a rude person, but almost never on purpose.  But sometimes I do want to say something mean on purpose, and thank goodness for John, because he's the only person I trust to gaze upon the chancred tar pit of my soul and still love me.  I think my running stream of mean thoughts shows on my face though, because sometimes when I'm just sitting and thinking my kids will ask me why I'm mad, and when I talked to Grant about Bitchy Resting Face he told me I have it.  I remember my Aunt Pam looking mad all the time.  She was actually a wonderful woman, she was just descended from my Grandpa Max and so she had Wilker face, just like I do.  Undiluted it's not a look that really invites companionship or intimacy.  

The other day I made a sweet potato peanut stew that I saw in Better Homes & Gardens, and I'll give it to you straight:  it was a dog.  You know how delicious peanut sauce is, right, and how you just love to dip your spring rolls in it?  Tasty.  And this stew tastes just like it!  I've often said I could eat peanut sauce by the bowlful, and here was my chance to prove or disprove my claim.  Well, just like I wouldn't want to eat a bowl of mayonnaise or ketchup, it turns out that a bowl of peanut stew is not a good thing.  I will not make it again, and I am ignoring it in the fridge until it either spoils or is old enough that only the chickens will eat it.  John liked it more than I did, so he has taken a bunch of it to work to eat with his coworker Daniel, who is bringing some rice so they can pretend it's some kind of curry-type dish.  Godspeed, brothers.  

Thursday, February 12, 2015

before I DON'T go into the water, because that's gross

I know that in July we will be so sad about how the Earth is burning, but the nice weather/no snow is so nice right now that I guess I'll just whistle and not worry about it.

I watched a cute movie the other day--it's The Sapphires, and it's instant play on Netflix, and it has the delightful Chris O'Dowd in it, and four great Australian actresses and they are not little stick figures, and the story is interesting and if you like music, as I do, then you should watch it.  I highly recommend it.

I look at cracker recipes sometimes and think how delicious they look, but none of them look delicious enough for me to actually make them.  What I want is for people to make homemade cheezit-type crackers and give them to me for free.

There is a cat meowing somewhere in my house and I bet the kids have shut it in the bathroom.  If he poops in there I'm not cleaning it up.

A couple of weeks ago I was at the doctor, and some lady's toddler was FREAKING OUT and throwing a most impressive tantrum, and I was pretty steamed because I go to the doctor to relax, not listen to babies cry, but then I just thought "That is not your baby.  It is that lady's baby, and she has to go home with it," and POOF, attitude fixed.  I have found that many social annoyances can be solved when you remember that you don't have to go home with that person.  It helps you pity them rather than want to stab them in the face with a grapefruit knife.  I mean, when the annoying person is an adult, not a baby.  Ha ha I love babies I promise.