I’m thinking about starting a new blog called ‘On the Verge of Widowhood’ or ‘ALMOST a Single Mother’. What do you think? It would probably have to be replaced eventually by ‘Jane on the Chain Gang’ or ‘Tales from the Pokey’ because that is the way my luck is rolling these days. I won’t bore you with the details right now because I am still unable to laugh about the situation and I am not in the mood to cry.
In other good news: my car is falling apart. Remember the hit she took last year from the parking lot rager? The 4-second backstory: guy in parking lot backs up to shake a finger at dude who almost hit him and succeeds at hitting me. I don’t know if that is relevant but anycrap, yesterday I noticed a rattling coming from the front passenger side of my car. After I picked up Omega, I asked her to listen as I drove through the parking lot. She rolled down the window, looked out and pointed out that what she thought should be a small crack between two car pieces, was now a gaping chasm. Translation: front bumper falling off. Upon closer examination at home, I noticed that the entire wheel well liner thingy is GONE! And the bumper is, in fact, detached. There doesn’t appear to be any damage to the bumper or any of the other remaining parts of the car. Anyone out there know how something like this happens? It is not old or rusty or American made on a Friday or Monday and I don’t believe I have run over anything. WTH?
Is it not even possible to buy corded phones anymore? I am so sick of not being able to find a phone at home. People take them, use them and then leave them to die so that the locater beeper fails to function, the phone doesn’t ring and voice mails pile up.
Some people just don’t ‘get’ the cell phone concept. If I give you my cell phone number and I say ‘that’s the best way to reach me’ I mean ‘USE THAT NUMBER, RETARD!’
Ahem, sorry. That was uncalled for.
The forecast for the next 4 days looks like a March flashback… again.
Open enrollment for health bennies ends today so I need to decide whether to stay with our current coverage or go back to the old, cheaper plan, and I need to estimate how much money to put in my Flex account. I socked away $1000 bucks last year thinking that I could surely squeeze out a pair of glasses with the leftovers… yeah, not. With two months to go, I am fundless and blind, and that means I won’t get reimbursed for all the over-the-counter meds that I have purchased in the last 10 months. Yes, I know, I should track this kind of stuff so I know for next year. If you were my real friend, you would know that on this particular paragraph here I am just looking for pity, not advice.
It is looking like another weekend where I won’t make much progress on the Patty potty project. She is gone again and the daughter’s crackhead boyfriend will be staying there to babysit the pitbulls – none of with which I want to deal. She is under the same graduation deadline that I am, and yes, I know I could just say ‘screw it’ but that’s not the way I roll. I committed to the project and I will do my best on it… IF I ever get the chance.
So… that’s most of my sad story, not including my bad hair day… and the fact that my pants, socks and shoes are 3 different colors of khaki. I know! You see how pitiful I have become?
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Meeting Madness
Brain Dead
byJane
I sat in a meeting today.
So much of nothing to say.
They all droned on
As I did yawn.
This job is not worth the pay.
Acronyms and jargon did fly.
Too many letters to try
To grasp all the crap
That they shoved in my lap.
Could somebody just tell my Y.?
My eyes they started to glaze.
My mind got lost in a haze.
I just wasn't able
To keep my head off the table
So they said 'Is that how she prays?'
'Yada, yada... yada some more.'
'Eighty, 6%, 3.4'
Stop talking you guys!
I'm beyond sounding wise,
Cuz my brain has slid to the floor!
byJane
I sat in a meeting today.
So much of nothing to say.
They all droned on
As I did yawn.
This job is not worth the pay.
Acronyms and jargon did fly.
Too many letters to try
To grasp all the crap
That they shoved in my lap.
Could somebody just tell my Y.?
My eyes they started to glaze.
My mind got lost in a haze.
I just wasn't able
To keep my head off the table
So they said 'Is that how she prays?'
'Yada, yada... yada some more.'
'Eighty, 6%, 3.4'
Stop talking you guys!
I'm beyond sounding wise,
Cuz my brain has slid to the floor!
I'm a bit sprung
I'm almost happy to be back to the office job today... almost. I'm not going to say 'back to work' because that would make it sound like the rest of my life is just naps and needlepoint.
Saturday was pretty swell. I punished myself with a few hours of housework and then spent 3 or 4 hours with Alpha, shopping for a prom dress. She must have tried on over 50 dresses at two malls. The dress she finally picked out will surely stop a few hearts, especially when you add the updo and silver, high-heeled sandals. We tried to talk her into lower heels, for comfort's sake, but she feels that a girl should take full advantage of having a boyfriend who is 6'4". She makes a good arguement. Yesterday, she practiced walking around the house in the sandals, looking all DaisyDuke in her short, shorts and 6 miles of leg.
Saturday night I met Cindy and Angie for dinner and margaritas. That was so fun, but next time I'm going to get a big girl marg, like they had... mine ran out much too soon. Then I went home, watched most of the Jazz game and crraasshheddd!!! Whoever says that shopping is relaxing? They lied!
Sunday was the killer. It was beautiful weather so I mowed the lawn and did a bunch of tidying around the yard. Our house is on the side of a hill and there is a retaining wall on one side of the front yard. It has always looked a bit screwy where it ties into the street, so I decided to see what I could do. I thought it would be a matter of adding 2 blocks to the current configuration. Haha! Yeah, 12 blocks later, it's fixed. That doesn't sound like a big deal unless you take into figuration that the 12 blocks had to be toted from the back yard and then laid at least 10 times each, because by now you know me well enough to know that they had to be level 6 ways and perfectly aligned front to back. I am paying in my shoulder and butt muscles today. My fingers are raw from handling the blocks... yes, I do know I should have worn gloves but it was only going to be TWO blocks, remember? And my back is killing me, not because of the lifting, but because of the 2" slice of skin that peeked out between my tank top and shorts... that place where I didn't think to put sunscreen. And my feet are a bit angry because I recklessly dove into a full day of flip-flopping without properly breaking in my toe crotches. But enough whining! My body parts and I have been begging for spring to come and the weather to warm so we just need to buck up and take it like the woman we are... I am... whatev.
Never fear, though, the lovely weather is scheduled to end on Wednesday. Maybe it's good that it doesn't come all at once... gives me time to lick my wounds and do a little needlepoint. Ha... as if. Does anyone even do needlepoint anymore?
Later: I have now linked my dinner partners to their sites, so that no other innocent bloggers will be marked with the shame of having fraternized with crazy Jane. It was fun, but it went so dang fast.
One of the funny moments:
"OMG, I'm having a hot flash... can you tell?"
"Uh uh."
"Really? I mean, can't you feel that?"
The other two hold up their hands as if warming them on a fire.
"Nope"
"Not at all."
Saturday was pretty swell. I punished myself with a few hours of housework and then spent 3 or 4 hours with Alpha, shopping for a prom dress. She must have tried on over 50 dresses at two malls. The dress she finally picked out will surely stop a few hearts, especially when you add the updo and silver, high-heeled sandals. We tried to talk her into lower heels, for comfort's sake, but she feels that a girl should take full advantage of having a boyfriend who is 6'4". She makes a good arguement. Yesterday, she practiced walking around the house in the sandals, looking all DaisyDuke in her short, shorts and 6 miles of leg.
Saturday night I met Cindy and Angie for dinner and margaritas. That was so fun, but next time I'm going to get a big girl marg, like they had... mine ran out much too soon. Then I went home, watched most of the Jazz game and crraasshheddd!!! Whoever says that shopping is relaxing? They lied!
Sunday was the killer. It was beautiful weather so I mowed the lawn and did a bunch of tidying around the yard. Our house is on the side of a hill and there is a retaining wall on one side of the front yard. It has always looked a bit screwy where it ties into the street, so I decided to see what I could do. I thought it would be a matter of adding 2 blocks to the current configuration. Haha! Yeah, 12 blocks later, it's fixed. That doesn't sound like a big deal unless you take into figuration that the 12 blocks had to be toted from the back yard and then laid at least 10 times each, because by now you know me well enough to know that they had to be level 6 ways and perfectly aligned front to back. I am paying in my shoulder and butt muscles today. My fingers are raw from handling the blocks... yes, I do know I should have worn gloves but it was only going to be TWO blocks, remember? And my back is killing me, not because of the lifting, but because of the 2" slice of skin that peeked out between my tank top and shorts... that place where I didn't think to put sunscreen. And my feet are a bit angry because I recklessly dove into a full day of flip-flopping without properly breaking in my toe crotches. But enough whining! My body parts and I have been begging for spring to come and the weather to warm so we just need to buck up and take it like the woman we are... I am... whatev.
Never fear, though, the lovely weather is scheduled to end on Wednesday. Maybe it's good that it doesn't come all at once... gives me time to lick my wounds and do a little needlepoint. Ha... as if. Does anyone even do needlepoint anymore?
Later: I have now linked my dinner partners to their sites, so that no other innocent bloggers will be marked with the shame of having fraternized with crazy Jane. It was fun, but it went so dang fast.
One of the funny moments:
"OMG, I'm having a hot flash... can you tell?"
"Uh uh."
"Really? I mean, can't you feel that?"
The other two hold up their hands as if warming them on a fire.
"Nope"
"Not at all."
Anything you say can and will be used against you...
Thursday morning Love talk in Jane's kitchen:
Jane: There's the leash you were looking for.
(Jane opted not to help Homer look for the dog's leash last night, so he used the belt from her leather coat to walk the dog in an attempt to agitate and punish her for not finding the leash for him. Another time he used an extension cord.)
Homer, sputters: Uh.
(He wants to say 'How the heck did I miss that?' but that would be too much like admitting this was not Jane's fault.)
Jane: It was right there on the counter...
Homer: Well, it's supposed to be hung up behind the door.
Jane: ... where you always leave it... on that counter there.
Homer: Yeah, but you're supposed to pick up after me.
Jane , turns to hug Alpha goodbye and whispers: I'm going to kill him.
Alpha: Okay, just wait until Omega and I are gone.
Homer: Wait for what?
Alpha (smiles): You'll see. (reconsiders) No, you probably won't see... not if she does it right.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Have a super weekend every buddy!
Don't even worry about Homer...
Jane: There's the leash you were looking for.
(Jane opted not to help Homer look for the dog's leash last night, so he used the belt from her leather coat to walk the dog in an attempt to agitate and punish her for not finding the leash for him. Another time he used an extension cord.)
Homer, sputters: Uh.
(He wants to say 'How the heck did I miss that?' but that would be too much like admitting this was not Jane's fault.)
Jane: It was right there on the counter...
Homer: Well, it's supposed to be hung up behind the door.
Jane: ... where you always leave it... on that counter there.
Homer: Yeah, but you're supposed to pick up after me.
Jane , turns to hug Alpha goodbye and whispers: I'm going to kill him.
Alpha: Okay, just wait until Omega and I are gone.
Homer: Wait for what?
Alpha (smiles): You'll see. (reconsiders) No, you probably won't see... not if she does it right.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Have a super weekend every buddy!
Don't even worry about Homer...
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Jane the Jazz Jinx
I'm a big Jazz fan. That's the one with the capital J and capital NBA. I used to watch religiously while Reverend Sloan preached maturity and hard work and sent his disciples out on the floor to spread the word of Stockton to Malone. And Reverend Sloan saw it and it was good... uh, sorry, they were good and they made it to the finals 2 years in a row only to get knocked down by Lucifer Jordan. Kid-ding. Well kind of.
Those were the good old days... and then the veterans started leaving. Some retired, some ran off to hook up with other teams that were believed to have title hopes. Sloan ended up with a whole new class of kindergartners... who had their problems... which I won't go into. Interest 'round these parts dropped off considerably. Mine did, too. Then things started getting interesting again when the Jazz snagged a couple of good players, made some smart draft choices and I don't know... maybe lured them to practice with the promise of double frosting in their cookies.
Anyway, the Jazz, if not a great team, at least became fun to watch... so I went back. Well, I TRIED to go back. The regular season games that I went to were great... loved the new look and they usually won.
Then last year they made the playoffs and they lost every game I watched. I think they were down like 3-0 in the first round. So I stopped watching... and they began to win. They won the series. From there on out, every time I turned on the tv, they stunk up the gym.
Jane doesn't watch: Jazz get big lead.
Jane turns on the game: Jazz throw the lead into the toilet.
I'm not a superstitious person but how do you explain a pattern like this?
I don't remember if I told you about it last year and I'm too lazy to go back and look, but Cindy would text me updates whenever they played so that I wouldn't be tempted to turn on the telly. Homer chased me from the family room and would even sweep through the house periodically to make sure I hadn't tuned in on another tv. Sometimes they would call me to watch the last 30 seconds or so if there was at least a 10 point lead. No worries that anyone would let me actually GO to a game. Seriously, I became known as The Jazz Jonah.
Like childbirth, I guess I blocked out the pain of last year's playoffs... until Friday night. I got a text from Cindy who was in Florida: R u watchin?
Crap! No, I wasn't watching. I forgot about it. I turned on the set and texted back: I wasn't but i m now.
They had a 12 point lead over the Rockets, which I watched them quickly squander.
Text from Cindy: Ok stop watching.
She was nice enough to blame the officials but I knew better. So I tuned in again in the 3rd quarter - just to test my theory... yep, same result.
From there on out I had to settle for updates. They won.
Last night was the same thing. The Jazz won again and they now head home for 2 games and hopefully polish off those Rockets. As long as I don't watch, I suppose.
So I'm looking for advice. How do I break this kind of curse? I am really not content to go through another round of playoffs getting kicked to the locker room. After all, this year? This year the Jazz have
this HERE:
Those were the good old days... and then the veterans started leaving. Some retired, some ran off to hook up with other teams that were believed to have title hopes. Sloan ended up with a whole new class of kindergartners... who had their problems... which I won't go into. Interest 'round these parts dropped off considerably. Mine did, too. Then things started getting interesting again when the Jazz snagged a couple of good players, made some smart draft choices and I don't know... maybe lured them to practice with the promise of double frosting in their cookies.
Anyway, the Jazz, if not a great team, at least became fun to watch... so I went back. Well, I TRIED to go back. The regular season games that I went to were great... loved the new look and they usually won.
Then last year they made the playoffs and they lost every game I watched. I think they were down like 3-0 in the first round. So I stopped watching... and they began to win. They won the series. From there on out, every time I turned on the tv, they stunk up the gym.
Jane doesn't watch: Jazz get big lead.
Jane turns on the game: Jazz throw the lead into the toilet.
I'm not a superstitious person but how do you explain a pattern like this?
I don't remember if I told you about it last year and I'm too lazy to go back and look, but Cindy would text me updates whenever they played so that I wouldn't be tempted to turn on the telly. Homer chased me from the family room and would even sweep through the house periodically to make sure I hadn't tuned in on another tv. Sometimes they would call me to watch the last 30 seconds or so if there was at least a 10 point lead. No worries that anyone would let me actually GO to a game. Seriously, I became known as The Jazz Jonah.
Like childbirth, I guess I blocked out the pain of last year's playoffs... until Friday night. I got a text from Cindy who was in Florida: R u watchin?
Crap! No, I wasn't watching. I forgot about it. I turned on the set and texted back: I wasn't but i m now.
They had a 12 point lead over the Rockets, which I watched them quickly squander.
Text from Cindy: Ok stop watching.
She was nice enough to blame the officials but I knew better. So I tuned in again in the 3rd quarter - just to test my theory... yep, same result.
From there on out I had to settle for updates. They won.
Last night was the same thing. The Jazz won again and they now head home for 2 games and hopefully polish off those Rockets. As long as I don't watch, I suppose.
So I'm looking for advice. How do I break this kind of curse? I am really not content to go through another round of playoffs getting kicked to the locker room. After all, this year? This year the Jazz have
this HERE:
Definitely the cutest thing to happen to basketball in... forever.
What?! We could be the next Ashton and Demi...
What?! We could be the next Ashton and Demi...
We may have to chat about those socks, though...
Monday, April 21, 2008
he said... she said...
Saturday afternoon at Jane Central...
Jane: Something... something... mumble, mumble... living with pigs...
Homer: I don't know why you are complaining, last Saturday we did all the cleaning for you.
Jane: In... what... dream?
Homer: I can't believe you don't remember. We spent all day Saturday cleaning the house so it would be nice for your birthday.
Jane: I can't believe YOU don't remember that I spent the whole day cleaning so it would be nice for my birthday!
Homer: See, it really doesn't pay for us to help out if you don't even notice.
Jane: Girls? What did you clean last Saturday?
Alpha: Maybe my room?
Omega: Just the usual...
Homer: Well, I did a lot more than usual! I picked up all my stuff AND put away my skis.
Jane: So basically you were just a little more considerate than you typically are?
Homer: YEAH! ... I mean no... there's no right answer to that, is there?
A victory is so much more delicious when you can turn your opponent on himself.
Jane: Something... something... mumble, mumble... living with pigs...
Homer: I don't know why you are complaining, last Saturday we did all the cleaning for you.
Jane: In... what... dream?
Homer: I can't believe you don't remember. We spent all day Saturday cleaning the house so it would be nice for your birthday.
Jane: I can't believe YOU don't remember that I spent the whole day cleaning so it would be nice for my birthday!
Homer: See, it really doesn't pay for us to help out if you don't even notice.
Jane: Girls? What did you clean last Saturday?
Alpha: Maybe my room?
Omega: Just the usual...
Homer: Well, I did a lot more than usual! I picked up all my stuff AND put away my skis.
Jane: So basically you were just a little more considerate than you typically are?
Homer: YEAH! ... I mean no... there's no right answer to that, is there?
A victory is so much more delicious when you can turn your opponent on himself.
Friday, April 18, 2008
New heights of narcissism
My list
My love: Family
My addiction: Sleep
My sport: Basketball
My obsession: Reason
My dream: Beaches
My food: Thai
My treat: Sleep
My pastime: Creating
My music: Rock
My craving: Solitude
My happiness: Doing
My fear: Evil
My weakness: Soda
My scent: Fresh
My foolishness: Sugar
My relaxation: Water
My joy: Daughters
My color: Blue
My time: Now
My need: Sunshine
My fantasy: Order
My crazy: Chaos
My rock: Me
My soul: Pepperann
My security: Knowledge
My heart: Daddy
My secret: Depression
My wish: Health
My reward: Shoes
My determination: Life
My indulgence: Television
My pursuit: Happiness
My love: Family
My addiction: Sleep
My sport: Basketball
My obsession: Reason
My dream: Beaches
My food: Thai
My treat: Sleep
My pastime: Creating
My music: Rock
My craving: Solitude
My happiness: Doing
My fear: Evil
My weakness: Soda
My scent: Fresh
My foolishness: Sugar
My relaxation: Water
My joy: Daughters
My color: Blue
My time: Now
My need: Sunshine
My fantasy: Order
My crazy: Chaos
My rock: Me
My soul: Pepperann
My security: Knowledge
My heart: Daddy
My secret: Depression
My wish: Health
My reward: Shoes
My determination: Life
My indulgence: Television
My pursuit: Happiness
My day: Friday
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Tax hangover
I suspect if divorce is ever initiated at our house it will happen on an April 16th. Loyal readers might remember the great Taxcapade of 2007. I was naïve enough to think this year was going to be better. I’m not sure why, probably my natural Pollyanna attitude rearing its ditzy ringlets.
I took Monday off from work and devoted half the day to therapeutic futzing around and half to taxes. I wasn’t too concerned because I had Mr. Turbo*tax working for me. I absolutely LOVE this product. Back in the day when our returns were considerably more complicated, it probably saved my soul as well as the lives of several IRS agents. For those of you not familiar with the product, it asks you about 264 questions about your money and offers explanations and clarifications and then it whips your entire pile of fiscal minutia into… A TAX RETURN! You don’t have to read the 88 pages of instructions or download special publications or even enter your information from last year, because it KNOWS you! Really! It knows your employers and charities and dress size. One of these years I expect it will even send us a Christmas card!
So I fed the little number cruncher all that it asked for and printed out the tax return. The news was not good… by about $3000. It was a result of some capital gains and an interest payout didn't have tax withheld. It’s all good because, in theory, we made much more than the chunk that the IRS was asking for. Haha. Listen to me. If you know anything about Homer, you know that he does not roll over and sign his name to anything that will cost him money without a fight.
I am past finding it ironic that he insists I do the taxes but then spends more time going over them, than I spent doing them, sooooo... let the games begin.
8pm last night:
Homer: Why aren’t… ?
Jane: We are..
Homer: Why are we…?
Jane: Umm, we have to.
Homer: Doesn’t…?
Jane: NO.
Homer: Why….?
Jane: Because!
Homer: What is…?.
Jane: Exactly what it says there at the end of your nitpicking little nose!
Score: Jane 5, Homer 0
I won’t subject you to all the taxy-boorish details. I’ll just skip to the end and tell you that Homer Pennypincher was not able to find ONE single problem.
Ahem. *coughItoldyouso!*
By the time I got all the forms signed and checks attached and proper addresses for everything (Alpha had taxes, too), it was after 10 pm, which meant a trip to the postal service's home office once again... for ME, because Homer has disappeared with the dog. I still had only a vague idea where I needed to go, but I bundled up my handiwork that included a balloon-festooned envelope with one Kwanzaa and one Christmas stamp that contained my farewell gift to Dubya, and headed west (young woman!).
A few miles from home I ran into a snowstorm. Yes, on April 15th. One of those crazy snows made up of bb pellet-like pieces so thick and fast that they catch your headlights and make hypnotized mush of your already addled brain. I guess there had to be a new twist because this year I had my purse, my shoes and my cell phone with me. Well, I still took the wrong exit, missed the right one, flipped a couple U-ies and finally found the place with the postal soldiers in their yellow slickers standing out by the street grabbing returns from a steady stream of cars. I cheerfully wished them well and sped off… in the wrong direction… home. It’s people like me who inspired GPS technology. Santa? Please?
So, I was home in bed by 11:15pm. Not bad. No malice, no bitterness, right?
Dear IRS-
When you are putting together next year’s 1040 tax forms and you contemplate once again building in that little check box next to the names of the joint filers… the one that says ‘deceased’? I’m just thinking… maybe you shouldn’t tempt people.
Love,
Jane
I took Monday off from work and devoted half the day to therapeutic futzing around and half to taxes. I wasn’t too concerned because I had Mr. Turbo*tax working for me. I absolutely LOVE this product. Back in the day when our returns were considerably more complicated, it probably saved my soul as well as the lives of several IRS agents. For those of you not familiar with the product, it asks you about 264 questions about your money and offers explanations and clarifications and then it whips your entire pile of fiscal minutia into… A TAX RETURN! You don’t have to read the 88 pages of instructions or download special publications or even enter your information from last year, because it KNOWS you! Really! It knows your employers and charities and dress size. One of these years I expect it will even send us a Christmas card!
So I fed the little number cruncher all that it asked for and printed out the tax return. The news was not good… by about $3000. It was a result of some capital gains and an interest payout didn't have tax withheld. It’s all good because, in theory, we made much more than the chunk that the IRS was asking for. Haha. Listen to me. If you know anything about Homer, you know that he does not roll over and sign his name to anything that will cost him money without a fight.
I am past finding it ironic that he insists I do the taxes but then spends more time going over them, than I spent doing them, sooooo... let the games begin.
8pm last night:
Homer: Why aren’t… ?
Jane: We are..
Homer: Why are we…?
Jane: Umm, we have to.
Homer: Doesn’t…?
Jane: NO.
Homer: Why….?
Jane: Because!
Homer: What is…?.
Jane: Exactly what it says there at the end of your nitpicking little nose!
Score: Jane 5, Homer 0
I won’t subject you to all the taxy-boorish details. I’ll just skip to the end and tell you that Homer Pennypincher was not able to find ONE single problem.
Ahem. *coughItoldyouso!*
By the time I got all the forms signed and checks attached and proper addresses for everything (Alpha had taxes, too), it was after 10 pm, which meant a trip to the postal service's home office once again... for ME, because Homer has disappeared with the dog. I still had only a vague idea where I needed to go, but I bundled up my handiwork that included a balloon-festooned envelope with one Kwanzaa and one Christmas stamp that contained my farewell gift to Dubya, and headed west (young woman!).
A few miles from home I ran into a snowstorm. Yes, on April 15th. One of those crazy snows made up of bb pellet-like pieces so thick and fast that they catch your headlights and make hypnotized mush of your already addled brain. I guess there had to be a new twist because this year I had my purse, my shoes and my cell phone with me. Well, I still took the wrong exit, missed the right one, flipped a couple U-ies and finally found the place with the postal soldiers in their yellow slickers standing out by the street grabbing returns from a steady stream of cars. I cheerfully wished them well and sped off… in the wrong direction… home. It’s people like me who inspired GPS technology. Santa? Please?
So, I was home in bed by 11:15pm. Not bad. No malice, no bitterness, right?
Dear IRS-
When you are putting together next year’s 1040 tax forms and you contemplate once again building in that little check box next to the names of the joint filers… the one that says ‘deceased’? I’m just thinking… maybe you shouldn’t tempt people.
Love,
Jane
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Now arriving...
I heard on the news this morning that Dubya will be meeting Pope Benedict XVI at Andrews Air Force Base for what is believed to be the first time ever that a U.S. president has picked up a guest at the airport.
I wonder if Barbara finally had a word with him about minding his manners OR if this is just something they hope will keep him out of trouble for a few hours OR if he's hoping to get a few moments alone with the big guy for a huge confession session.
I know this is not the case but can you just picture Laura sending him off to the airport in his big ole pick 'em up truck while she is popping a pie in the oven and yelling 'For Pete's sake, Georgie, don't forget to use the navigation system!'?
Almost makes me laugh through my tax pain.
I wonder if Barbara finally had a word with him about minding his manners OR if this is just something they hope will keep him out of trouble for a few hours OR if he's hoping to get a few moments alone with the big guy for a huge confession session.
I know this is not the case but can you just picture Laura sending him off to the airport in his big ole pick 'em up truck while she is popping a pie in the oven and yelling 'For Pete's sake, Georgie, don't forget to use the navigation system!'?
Almost makes me laugh through my tax pain.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Rhymes with Nifty
One day very soon I will have a birthday. Like it or not, I will turn thirty-nine eleven. Please do the math quietly in your head... and don't even bother using your fingers and toes because you will run out... unless you are some kind of freak.
I wonder why the years ending in zero seem so traumatic. I suppose it’s the same concept that makes you think $20 is so much more than $19.95. I mean if someone asked you how much you paid, you would say twenty dollars… so you do KNOW it’s really twenty dollars… but there is something less traumatic about $19.95, isn’t there? If this wasn’t some sort of brain glitch that affects us all, there wouldn’t be so many 9’s in car prices.
Do NOT, however, expect me to say that I am 50 when I am only 49.99.
I'm having much inner conflict over this birthday. It feels like I'm being offered a (big) piece of cheesecake. Do I accept it and love every bite despite the 499 calories and the full square inch of fat that will go straight to my left buttock? OR do I politely refuse and wallow in that warm self-righteous feeling that comes with just saying NO!? At least I imagine it would feel good to say no... okay, cheesecake isn't a good example.
Even though I can’t technically refuse to turn 50, I can choose to ignore the whole thing and move to the state of denial. Since my shrink assures me there is only swampland available there, I am going to examine this from a semi-neutral perspective and tally up the pros and cons. Feel free to join in.
The good:
It’ll be behind me. No more traumatic zero birthdays for 10 more years.
It’s still a birthday so there should be cake. And presents!
I think policemen are less likely to search you for drugs if they pull you over, which could be a downside if the officer is all young and buff and… have you ever wondered why their pants are so tight?
The bad:
It bumps me up to the ‘mature skin’ category of facial products. Doesn’t that just smack of crowsfeet and jowls??
I’m destined for glasses soon… probably the bifocal variety since my arms are getting too short.
OMG - the colonoscopy! Not that the IRS doesn’t do this every year…
The ambiguous:
AARP membership… There ARE the hotel discounts but on the flipside, it pretty much says that shopping for elastic-waist pants and gray shoes is right around the corner.
That all sounds kind of shallow, huh? Yeah, well, it’s the kind of thing that swoops through my head when the brain door gets left open.
Y'know I really don’t worry about getting old because I fear dying as much as I worry about getting too old to be bothered with. Oh, wow, I think what I fear most is being boring. To others as much as to myself. Huh, wow, that explains so much! I think I just saved myself a bunch of money on therapy.
You know what I am going to do to celebrate? I am going to try and torch that 'dormant' tree. Assuming it burns and all, I think it might make kind of a fun little personal epiphany fire. If you like I can videotape it and share it right here! Assuming the camera doesn't 'malfunction' again... and assuming I am not too nertarded to put a video on my B-Spot. Well, that's enough assumptions for one day.
Hope you all have an X-cellant weeeeeeeeeeekendddddddd!
I wonder why the years ending in zero seem so traumatic. I suppose it’s the same concept that makes you think $20 is so much more than $19.95. I mean if someone asked you how much you paid, you would say twenty dollars… so you do KNOW it’s really twenty dollars… but there is something less traumatic about $19.95, isn’t there? If this wasn’t some sort of brain glitch that affects us all, there wouldn’t be so many 9’s in car prices.
Do NOT, however, expect me to say that I am 50 when I am only 49.99.
I'm having much inner conflict over this birthday. It feels like I'm being offered a (big) piece of cheesecake. Do I accept it and love every bite despite the 499 calories and the full square inch of fat that will go straight to my left buttock? OR do I politely refuse and wallow in that warm self-righteous feeling that comes with just saying NO!? At least I imagine it would feel good to say no... okay, cheesecake isn't a good example.
Even though I can’t technically refuse to turn 50, I can choose to ignore the whole thing and move to the state of denial. Since my shrink assures me there is only swampland available there, I am going to examine this from a semi-neutral perspective and tally up the pros and cons. Feel free to join in.
The good:
It’ll be behind me. No more traumatic zero birthdays for 10 more years.
It’s still a birthday so there should be cake. And presents!
I think policemen are less likely to search you for drugs if they pull you over, which could be a downside if the officer is all young and buff and… have you ever wondered why their pants are so tight?
The bad:
It bumps me up to the ‘mature skin’ category of facial products. Doesn’t that just smack of crowsfeet and jowls??
I’m destined for glasses soon… probably the bifocal variety since my arms are getting too short.
OMG - the colonoscopy! Not that the IRS doesn’t do this every year…
The ambiguous:
AARP membership… There ARE the hotel discounts but on the flipside, it pretty much says that shopping for elastic-waist pants and gray shoes is right around the corner.
That all sounds kind of shallow, huh? Yeah, well, it’s the kind of thing that swoops through my head when the brain door gets left open.
Y'know I really don’t worry about getting old because I fear dying as much as I worry about getting too old to be bothered with. Oh, wow, I think what I fear most is being boring. To others as much as to myself. Huh, wow, that explains so much! I think I just saved myself a bunch of money on therapy.
You know what I am going to do to celebrate? I am going to try and torch that 'dormant' tree. Assuming it burns and all, I think it might make kind of a fun little personal epiphany fire. If you like I can videotape it and share it right here! Assuming the camera doesn't 'malfunction' again... and assuming I am not too nertarded to put a video on my B-Spot. Well, that's enough assumptions for one day.
Hope you all have an X-cellant weeeeeeeeeeekendddddddd!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
My Style: Horticulture
I love reading about how you lucky people in warmer climates are out working in your gardens already in just in the kind of way I enjoy watching someone else eat chocolate cheesecake... without sharing.
Meg and Frana have all these things blooming and I can't get over how they know the real names for plants and Frana talks about the need to transplant like there's a purpose to it. Meg goes out and BUYS things to bring home and plant.
Yeah, at our house it goes something like this...
"Hey Homer, I think that brown thingamajiggy over by the wall is dead, so how about next time we plant some bark there."
"It is not dead. I think it is just dormant."
"Dude, it's an evergreen! Dormant is not an option."
So whadda you all think?
Meg and Frana have all these things blooming and I can't get over how they know the real names for plants and Frana talks about the need to transplant like there's a purpose to it. Meg goes out and BUYS things to bring home and plant.
Yeah, at our house it goes something like this...
"Hey Homer, I think that brown thingamajiggy over by the wall is dead, so how about next time we plant some bark there."
"It is not dead. I think it is just dormant."
"Dude, it's an evergreen! Dormant is not an option."
So whadda you all think?
snow...snow...did I say snow?
I’m starting to sound like a broken record, aren’t I?
Does anyone out there under the age of 25 even know what that means… a broken record? No, it’s not like Barry Bonds’ homeruns or the 59-1/2 hotdogs that a guy named Joey Chestnut ate in 12 minutes. Seriously! Fifty-nine and a half!! Picture your shopping cart with 6 packs of hotdogs and 7 -1/2 bags of buns. Now picture eating it ALL. I think you better put a couple bottles of Tum*s in that cart, too.
I just can’t imagine how or why anyone would do that. I mean you would probably have no room left for cheesecake!
Okay, I wandered off the sidewalk again. I was talking about (and like) a broken record. Young ‘uns, you are just going to have to go Google*it!
As I drove to work this morning, I listened to the hopeless weather forecast on the radio… highs in the double sweaters with slight chance of isolated fun. For a moment I thought I was back in the ‘Otas where spring is aptly named because you can bounce between shorts and your winter woolies all the way into June. Summer does usually arrive but it never stayed long enough for me, so I moved to a friendlier climate… except I’m not feeling the love this year. And I’m thinking, I did not suffer through umptwenty snow storms for this! This winterish spring we are having. And to top it off, last night I dreamed that Alpha got a giganticus, ultra-befroggily tattoo on her back because she said she had nothing better to do. And she told me not to worry about it because she had it on good authority that swimsuit weather would NEVER COME AGAIN!
I think it’s time to move my cold a$$ south again... south like Costa*Rica, I'm thinking.
Does anyone out there under the age of 25 even know what that means… a broken record? No, it’s not like Barry Bonds’ homeruns or the 59-1/2 hotdogs that a guy named Joey Chestnut ate in 12 minutes. Seriously! Fifty-nine and a half!! Picture your shopping cart with 6 packs of hotdogs and 7 -1/2 bags of buns. Now picture eating it ALL. I think you better put a couple bottles of Tum*s in that cart, too.
I just can’t imagine how or why anyone would do that. I mean you would probably have no room left for cheesecake!
Okay, I wandered off the sidewalk again. I was talking about (and like) a broken record. Young ‘uns, you are just going to have to go Google*it!
As I drove to work this morning, I listened to the hopeless weather forecast on the radio… highs in the double sweaters with slight chance of isolated fun. For a moment I thought I was back in the ‘Otas where spring is aptly named because you can bounce between shorts and your winter woolies all the way into June. Summer does usually arrive but it never stayed long enough for me, so I moved to a friendlier climate… except I’m not feeling the love this year. And I’m thinking, I did not suffer through umptwenty snow storms for this! This winterish spring we are having. And to top it off, last night I dreamed that Alpha got a giganticus, ultra-befroggily tattoo on her back because she said she had nothing better to do. And she told me not to worry about it because she had it on good authority that swimsuit weather would NEVER COME AGAIN!
I think it’s time to move my cold a$$ south again... south like Costa*Rica, I'm thinking.
Yeah, like right about here:
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
I'm dreaming of a...
So, I woke up this morning
and I looked outside and
*SURPRISE!*
it was snowing.
Not small, ambiguous pieces of precipitation...
NO, it was the big, fat cotton ball sized stuff.
Serious snow.
And I thought
'Ohmygosh! I must have shopping to do
and cookies to bake
and a tree to trim
because surely Christmas has been
moved up to April this year!'
And while this thought
did not make me
the tiniest bit happy,
I did give myself a smug little back pat
for not having taken down
last year's Christmas lights.
and I looked outside and
*SURPRISE!*
it was snowing.
Not small, ambiguous pieces of precipitation...
NO, it was the big, fat cotton ball sized stuff.
Serious snow.
And I thought
'Ohmygosh! I must have shopping to do
and cookies to bake
and a tree to trim
because surely Christmas has been
moved up to April this year!'
And while this thought
did not make me
the tiniest bit happy,
I did give myself a smug little back pat
for not having taken down
last year's Christmas lights.
Back again...
Okay, I'm back... I think. It got complicated maintaining two places so I quit this one... for almost a year. I'm trying to make a complete move over here, but I have to figure out what to do with two years worth of the old stuff at that other place.
So, I will take it slow and fix this up and... yeah, stay tuned.
So, I will take it slow and fix this up and... yeah, stay tuned.
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