Category Archives: LOL

Jedi Mom Trick

5 yr old: Mommeeeee? Will you wipe my butt? I can’t wipe it like you do

Me: Why is that?

5 yr old: Because I might get poop on my hand

Me: *stifled giggle* Dude. That’s what soap and water are for

5 yr old: *indignant* Noooo…that’s for when your hands are dirty

Me: Um…I think having poop on your hands totally qualifies as “dirty”

5 yr old: Nuh uhhh

Me: Uh huhhh

5 yr old: NOOOO! Dirty is when you have dirt on your hands!

Me: So you don’t think you need to wash your hands with soap and water when they have poop on them?

5 yr old: YES I DO!

………..

HAAAA! See what I did there?

I should have been a trial lawyer.

Or a Jedi.

YES. I KNOW HE’S FIVE.

Whatever. It totally counts.
 
 

Is It Just Me?

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I Can’t Believe I Wasn’t Invited

I found this wrinkled, ripped up envelope, with what appears to be a shopping list for a party, in my front yard. How it got there and who these people are, I have no idea.

But clearly my name is not on the list—which is probably for the best because there appear to be more girls than boys as it is. It’s never fun to be the one of the sad, lonely few NOT making out with a boy *sigh*

ICE…BURR! (Yes, Virginia, ice really IS cold)

Well, I hope nobody got alcohol poisoning via the beer bong… (See also: Things only a mom would say)


found shopping list

If Only I Drank Wine

I spotted this bottle while grocery shopping with my kids (See also: reason #347 to drink wine…preferably WHILE SHOPPING).

But alas, I can’t drink wine anymore. It makes my stomach burn and then I get all flushed and hot (like temperature hot…not LET’S DO IT!!! hot) and then I fall asleep.

But if I WAS going to drink it, I’d buy this one based solely on appearances because when it comes to wine, cool name + interesting label = SOLD!

I’m a marketing department’s wet dream…

Are You Sure You’re Not High?

So I went to the evil empire the other night, right? No, no, no…not the Scientology headquarters located in lovely downtown Clearwater, a mere 20 minute drive from here (in case you ever want to see the trophy case where they keep John Travolta and Tom Cruise’s REAL brains in those creepy glass jars usually reserved for fetal pigs and two-headed snakes. Note: Would also make for awesome science class field trip because BRAAAAAAAINS)

No, I went to that store that rhymes with Schmalmart—and I realize, as a bleeding heart liberal who tries to live as greenly as possible and supports fair trade and loves the mom and pop shops, that I’m committing some serious sacrilege but I had to go there. HAD TO. For roller skates. Because my daughter wants some for her birthday and because I was away at BlogHer on her actual birthday, which means whatever ‘lil missy wants, she WILL get. (Note to kids everywhere: Guilt is a terrific parental motivator!) Also, because it was, like, 9pm and where the frig else can you buy skates at 9pm?

So, after much wandering about, as I’m not well acquainted with the layout of Schmalmart, I finally ask some employees who were clearly more interested in continuing their conversation about whose bad ass rims were THE MOST bad ass, where they keep the roller skates—because this is fricken Schmalmart and THEY HAVE EVERYTHING.

Except they don’t.

Because they DON’T SELL ROLLERSKATES AT SCHMALMART, according to surly guy #1

The hell?

Then, in a feeble attempt to be more helpful and less surly, surly guy #2 suggests I instead go home and peruse Schmalmart.com and mail order some skates.

Well, thank you, sir, for that helpful suggestion but if I wanted to mail order stuff, I would have been all over this task WEEKS AGO. But why would I want to mail order something when, in theory, I should be able to walk amongst the People of Schmalmart, pluck some damn skates off the shelf and JUST BUY THEM.

Also, weeks ago I was much more concerned with MY OWN NEEDS…like buying shoes and dresses and shit for BlogHer. Priorities, people—I HAVE THEM—in case you didn’t know.

Okay…so I resign myself to the fact that I’m not going to get any skates on this particular evening. I’ll just carve out some more kid-free time some other day this week, because we all know how easy it is to come by kid-free time IN THE DAMN SUMMER.

So I leave and go to the toy section, thinking since I’m already here and have already committed a green mom’s cardinal sin by setting foot in the front door, that I might as well get the other gift I needed…a card game called Slamwich.

I look and look and look and I don’t see Slamwich but since I’ve never actually laid eyes on a Slamwich game, I have no idea what it looks like.

So, I go back to surly guy #2 who is now ticking off all the reasons he will, in fact, be getting a date with some girl he fancies (I’m sure his bad ass rims will play a huge part in all of this) and ask about Slamwich.

Me: I’m looking for a game called Slamwich. Can you check your computer and see if you have it in stock?

Surly Guy: Slamwich? Like sandwich?

Me: Well, yeah, except it’s Slamwich

Surly Guy: Oh. Okay.

Me: Can you check if you have it in stock?

Surly Guy: Let’s see if it’s on the shelf

Me: I already looked at all the games. I didn’t see it but I’m not sure what it looks like so it would probably be easier if you just looked it up.

Surly Guy: No, I have to look.

Me: *suppresses eyeroll*

Surly Guy: Is it this game? *holds up something called Slam*

Me: No, it’s SlamWICH

Surly Guy: Oh yeah, like sandwich!

Me: *blink*

Surly Guy: Let me call some other stores

Me: If I have to drive across town to another Schmalmart, I really don’t want it.

Surly Guy: Okay, I’ll call and see if any other store has it

Me: Are you high?

Surly Guy: What? *thinks about it for a second* No, definitely NOT high.

Me: Okay, but you should know that you SEEM really high

Surly Guy: Oh. Haha. Yeah. That’s funny. No, wait. I mean it’s funny but I’m not. Here, let me call them right now. *dials number, asks someone to help him locate “SANDWICH” and gets put on hold*

Me: No, it’s Slamwich

Surly Guy: What?

Me: Dude, seriously, LOOK IT UP ON THE COMPUTER

Surly Guy: I can’t.

Me: Why not?

Surly Guy: I’m not allowed

Me: Why?

Surly Guy: Because we can’t look up inventory

Me: You’re not allowed to look up inventory?

Surly Guy: Yes. I mean no, our computer doesn’t do that

Me: What???? Every big box store can do that

Surly Guy: Not ours

Me: So you mean to tell me that the largest retailer ON THE PLANET cannot look up something on the computer and see if it’s in stock?

Surly Guy: Nope

Me: No, seriously

Surly Guy: *hangs up phone*

Me: Wait, did they answer you? Does anyone have this stupid game? *clearly annoyed*

Surly Guy: No, I just got tired of waiting

Me: So you just hung up?

Surly Guy: *smiles* Yeah!

Me: So now what?

Surly Guy: Uh…go to the front desk. They can look it up for you

Me: Are you joking? Why didn’t you tell me this, like, ten minutes ago? Also, NO…because in my experience, those people are completely useless

Surly Guy: Yeah *laughs*

Me: Are you sure you’re not high?

So I hurried across the street to Target, which is in extreme renovation mode (translation: totally sucks right now) and also where I’m not supposed to be shopping at anyway because they gave money to anti-gay groups, and bought some damn skates. I feel bad about breaking my boycott but as noted, parental guilt is a seriously effective motivator and apparently I am willing to compromise ALL my principles in order to avoid it.

Related: I suck.

BUT I GOT THE SKATES!

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get Sandwich *sigh*

Please to be Interventioning Me

First off, let me say that I’m not a fan of McDonald’s. Other than the Southwestern salad, I find their food largely unappetizing. Now, that doesn’t mean I won’t eat a fry or two because okay…their fries are pretty tasty. But the burgers are weird and have little hard things in them and the nuggets, despite claims to be all breast meat, have the occasional weird rubbery thing in them AND, I read somewhere (and this  MAY be an urban legend) that, were you to put one in a sealed glass container, their burgers look exactly the same a year later, as in NOT DECOMPOSING.

So yeah..ungoodness all around—and we haven’t even discussed the Happy Meals for little kids promoting PG-13 movies thing or the obesity thing or the not-humanely-raised eggs issue.

Okay, so now I’ve painted a pretty accurate picture of how I feel about the golden arches. Not exactly “lovin’ it”.

But then they went and did something totally diabolical.

MORE diabolical, I mean.

They introduced the Frappé.

It comes in mocha and caramel.

And I hate myself for saying this but THEY. ARE. GOOD.

And cheap.

And easy to get.

Not unlike a visit to your conveniently located neighborhood crack house.

I don’t know how many calories are in them and I don’t want to know. I just want my fricken daily Frappé.

It’s cold, creamy coffee goodness soothing the helltastic summer heat…

It’s caffeine, however meager, coursing through my veins and perking up my wilting, heat-stricken spirits…

Like any good junkie, I have a love/hate relationship with my dealer.

I hate them until I need a fix and then, despite all attempts at resistance, I find myself taking a different route so I can hit the drive thru.

And like any good junkie, I feel guilty and ashamed when it’s all gone and make promises to quit.

I NEED an intervention. PLEASE!

Right after I finish this giant mocha Frappé—you know—last hurrahs and such…

Dear Craigslist People

Dear Craigslist People,

I know you turn to Craigslist to find a bargain (unless you’re one of those jackasses that posts nekkid pix of yourself from your Grandma’s bathroom…the crocheted poodle toilet paper cover is a dead giveaway, just in case you were wondering how I knew you were at your Grandma’s house perving it up in her bathroom. Also, FYI, pictures taken in your nasty bedroom with the Whitesnake poster on the wall OR a Spongebob blanky anywhere in sight? NOT HOT )

Anyway, I know you folks want to save a few bucks so you look around on Craigslist but seriously, you need to KNOW a few things…

If I’m selling 60 pieces of name-brand girls clothing, all in excellent condition and I’m only asking $20, which, for the math-impaired, is 33¢ an item, I’m NOT taking pictures of every single item and I’m NOT going to answer stupid questions about every item and I’m NOT going to sell it to you for five freaking dollars—especially when I know your cheap, sorry ass is probably going to turn around and sell it on eBay anyway. Which is fine. I hate eBay so better you than me. But I’d give it to Goodwill before I’d let you have it for that—go buy it from them. I mean really…have you NO shame? I’d be embarrassed to ask people to give me a SEVENTY FIVE PERCENT price break…

The same goes for the Little Tikes Craftsmen Tool Bench. Dude…it’s in mint condition and I’m asking twenty dollars for it. Do NOT send me an email asking if I’ll take five for it.  Is there anything in my listing that says this is “Let’s Make a Really Bad (for me) Deal?” If you seriously can’t afford more than five bucks, maybe you should SELL YOUR COMPUTER (I’ll give you five bucks for it) and get rid of your internet service instead of lowballing people on Craigslist all day long.

And finally, for all you asswipes that bug the living crap out of me and beg me to not sell my stuff to someone else and then don’t show up… I wish you a scorching case of herpes with a nice sprinkling of genital warts. I mean you clearly have a phone, since you called me 17 times to make sure I hadn’t sold the item(s) you so desperately wanted. How about picking up said phone and letting me know you won’t be coming? I might even be nice and understanding and NOT wish you a lifetime of oozing blisters and weird bumpy things on your nether regions. But if you offer me five dollars? All bets are off.

As ever,
IzzyMom