Some Pig

Letter From A Broad, Helpful Hints Edition

Dear Homeowner,

After driving by your house twice recently, I simply must compliment you for making the best of a tricky situation.  It is difficult to keep up appearances when one uses one's front lawn as a general storage facility.  However, I don't think that sticking a small table of rather fatigued looking knick-knacks outside as well and putting up a sign that says "yard sale" by the side of the road allows you to forgo the process of actually cleaning up your yard.  I'm just sayin'.

Sincerely,
Someone Who Was Not Put Up to This By Your Neighbors, Although They Have Every Right

Dear John Paul Jones,

"Caroline," Warren said to me as he watched you trying to launch the S.S. Minnow the other day, "I don't think he consulted the owner's manual."

I gave him the stink-eye, for my mate is not one to prate about having paranormal abilities. Suddenly he's claiming omniscience?  "Why is that, dear?" I replied.

"Because generally you need wind to go sailing," he responded.  And indeed, he was right.  Perhaps you should take that under advisement before you try to go sailing on a hazy, humid, and more to the point, perfectly breezeless August afternoon.  Otherwise you might wind up, oh, I don't know - drifting aimlessly around the boat launch in front of seventy-five people or so?  Getting the keel hung up on the buoy lines marking off the swim area, perhaps?  Whoever said, "don't give up the ship," I'm pretty sure was NOT talking to you.

Fair winds and following seas!

SP

Dear Canada,

Having spent a week vacationing in your friendly climes, I must admit I have found much to admire about our northerly neighbor.  The province of Quebec strikes a lovely balance between New World convenience and European culture... which is a fancy way of saying I can get behind a place where everyone speaks with a cool accent but they use English when I run out of my high school French.  Having availed myself of your hospitality several times, along with a few chocolate croissants and a crepe or two, I have often wondered why Canadians don't suffer from the same plague of obesity that we U.S. residents are so prone to.  I'm not saying you can't find a hefty critter or two north of the forty-eighth parallel, but it is proportionately much rarer.

Well, now I know why.

After spending the night in Vermont, we bundled the girls into the car at half-past early o'clock and started off for points north.  We figured we'd snack 'em up on cereal bars, which would last long enough to get us north of the border, then stop for a proper breakfast.  We went through Checkpoint Charlie without a hitch (except for the fact that we didn't know both our passports had expired, which is a sad commentary on how little exotic adventure yours truly enjoys these days).  Then we proceeded to look for a suitable breakfast place. 

And we looked.

And we looked.

And we looked.

WTF, Canada?  What do you have against people who want to eat food?  We drove for hours - literally HOURS - on a major highway, and could not find ANYPLACE to eat that was actually open and actively serving food.  We even detoured through a fairly sizeable town, and the only thing we could find was a Tim Horton's on the wrong side of the highway.  Out of sheer desperation we wound up stopping at a convenience store for granola bars and juice, which at least stopped the ceaseless chorus of "When are we going to eat, Mommy?  Mommy, I'm hungry," with accompanying percussion (i.e., kicking my seat back).  But still, one granola bar and some juice does not a breakfast make when you've got pancakes and eggs on the brain. 

So now I know why Canadians suffer less from obesity.  It's a big country, and I'm sure you have to truck around a fair bit to get from point A to point B - and there's nothing to eat along the way!  Sheesh, you can't go five minutes in any direction on a highway around here without finding half a dozen places to eat!  That may be a little excessive, granted, but could you maybe find a happy medium before we come up for our next visit?

Thanks,

Le Cochon

PS Notice how I refrained from saying, "eh?" anywhere in that letter?  I'm so proud of me!

Dear XM Satellite Radio,

For once in my life I have only good to say about something, as regards the trip mentioned above.  We took my husband's car, the one with the XM satellite radio and the kids' music channel.  Based on a strong desire to keep the smaller passengers happy and (relatively) easy to handle, we listened to kids' music for about 80% of the ride to and from our vacation.  Let me tell you, it was nothing short of a revelation!  I got to listen to songs I haven't heard twenty zillion times before, I didn't have to buy seventeen different CDs, and I didn't ONCE feel like stabbing anyone! AND... there was NO Wiggles.  Not One. Single. Song.  (And before my readership accuses me of hating on the Wiggles, rest assured, I loves me some antipodean vocalizing, but really - haven't we all heard "Get Ready to Wiggle" a million times or more already?)  I even found myself looking forward to certain songs, and hoping they'd be played again!  Truly the best $12.95 we spent this month.

Sincerely,

A Satisfied Consumer

Things Are Tough All Over

"I desperately need to find another job," grumped a friend of ours who is unhappily (but still gainfully) employed.

"Yeah, the financial crisis takes all the fun out of the midlife crisis, doesn't it?"  Warren commiserated.

"I know!" the friend responded, "I'm supposed to be driving fast cars and dating twenty-year-old women, and instead I'm just trying to make ends meet!"

Attention, Timothy Geitner!  The stimulus plan isn't reaching far enough!

Texts I Have Sent

My recent Michael Phelps anecdote spurred me to look through my old messages and see what I could see.

On taking a family trip:

Help.  Am trapped in moving vehicle w hostile natives.  Now know how American capt felt when captured by pirates.  Pls send Navy Seals.

Response from dear, dear friend whose value will soon become clear:

Will send troops... and wine.

Response from other dear friend whose mind runs along a similar track:

Duct tape.

The social workers are SO rigid about those things!

Response from male coworker at a happy hour:

I would send reinforcements but we are all sadly stuck here with beers in our hands.

How tragic!  I would pray for you, if I weren't an atheist.

Anonymous Student is here. He sure did just follow me into the men's room and start a conversation with me from an adjacent urinal.  I am still so very uncomfortable.

EEEEWWWW.  It will take you all vacay to recover from that!

On marital harmony:

Dustin hearts Tony's [Donut's, a pastry emporium in the City Formerly Known As Home that makes the most kick-ass donuts you have ever let pass between your lips. I told my coworker's husband, who commutes to said city, to check it out.]

Is that a good thing?!?

Not for me, not for his cholesterol, but maybe for him.

I will eat ALL the Tony's Donuts to spare his cholesterol bc I am selfless that way.  Especially the crullers.  I WILL SAVE DUSTIN FROM THE CRULLERS!!!

On Warren's trip to Vegas:

From Warren:  In LV.  What are you doing?

Hi Daddy!  We're out having pizza, then home for a movie and then BED (Mommy hopes).  We love you! Have a good time in Bermuda! (India was a little 'fused) [NB:  I am transcribing my daughters' ideas with my own edits, so it's not as icky as it comes off here]

I'm on [the] strip

As long as you're not WATCHING the strip, that's okay by me

We need to come here, sans kids!

I'm expecting a very nice consolation prize, BTW

It would be much better with you.  Don't worry, I have my Ptown face on [NB: Warren lived in Provincetown, Mass., many moons ago]

Ptown?  Are you pretending to be gay?

No, I have my "I am not buying what you are selling" - it works for gay, bi and straight!

What are they selling?!

The more narrow question is, "what aren't they selling"

How was your day w the girls? My sushimi has an orchid in it!  I am not in KC (Kansas City) anymore.

And there is an 8 foot buddha in the rafters

[Ed. note: At least he is finding enlightenment while he's, um, sightseeing]

On fashion, to my friend Robin:

Warning:  Am wearing ridiculous overalls today bc my pants are tight around my waist and uncomfortable to drive in.

Fair enough!

Now they are covered w snot and yogurt thanks to Ceecee.

Maybe This Will Tide You Over

I'm up to my @ss in alligators this week, and to mix metaphors even further, am busier than the one-legged man at the butt-kicking contest as a result.  However, given that my last post is a recycling of an older post, I am feeling under the gun to give you folks some new content.  I figure this little story will give you a chuckle while I wait for a chunk of time to free up.

The back story:  This fall, my teaching team took our kids to Boston for a day o' fun and learnin'.  Our math teacher saved my size-L keister by making up spreadsheets that listed the kids by name, allocated them to a bus, and divided them by chaperone.  He saved me about five hours of work and a nervous breakdown in the process.  Seriously, I would have owed him my firstborn child, except he is far too smart to saddle his newlywed self and wife with a four-year-old who has a penchant for telling long, pointless stories about fairies and crawling into bed with the adults of the house at 3 a.m.  But I digress.

To show my appreciation for his efforts, I texted A. the following message that evening:

I owe you one!  How do you take your coffee?

To which he replied:

Large, milk only... served by a big-chested 21-year-old.

My response:

YOU WANT MICHAEL PHELPS TO SERVE YOU COFFEE??  Hey, not that there's anything wrong with that...

You know how you always think of the PERFECT comeback a minute too late?  That exchange remains the shining example of the one time in my life when I actually had the last word.

I'll be back atcha soon with more tales of household incompetence (mine), anguished adolescents (my students), and general observations on the ludicrous, ridiculous, and unspeakable (for which see Rock of Love Bus, birthday party goodie-bag escalation, and anything to do with Nadya Suleiman and her eight kids). 

Who Says Crime Doesn't Pay? UPDATED

I love it when a blog post writes itself:

From The Podunky News, my hometown, The State Formerly Known As Home:

Mar 26 2009, Police Blotter:

 

Wednesday, Mar 18, 6:04 AM. A local store was burglarized during the night. Items reportedly taken included cigarettes, lottery tickets and beer. Police were later informed that a suspect had attempted to cash in some of the lottery tickets at a store in Neighboring Village, according to a State Lottery official. At 12:42 PM, police executed a search warrant at a local residence. Two Podunky men, aged 20 and 24, were charged with burglary and theft. Podunky Police Chief Krupke said police were able to track the suspects by following a trail of unopened beer cans, lighters, lottery tickets, and cigarette packs that had been dropped along the escape route. (emphasis mine) Police also received a report from a passer-by who reportedly saw one of the men walking along the road at 4:30 AM using his jacket as a basket to carry a large number of items, Krupke said.

Anyone want to write the concluding thought for this post?  Because I am so astounded by the level of stupidity shown here, I am actually rendered speechless.

But Wait! There's More!!!

My parents just sent me the following late-breaking news reports:

OOPS

Thursday, Mar 26, 9:13 PM - A male subject attempted to steal a 30-pack of beer from a local store, but dropped the items while running on City Road.

 

BED FRAMES DON'T KILL PEOPLE...

Sunday, Mar 29, 10:32 AM - Police checked the well being of a male subject who sustained some type of head injury. The man, who was walking along State Rd, told police that he had purposely "head-butted" a bed frame earlier in the morning because he was upset about his sister's ex-boyfriend.

The more I think about it, the happier I am that I married an out-of-towner.  At least my kids now have half a shot at not being counted among the stupidest people on earth.

Letter From A Broad, Celebreality Edition

Dear Bret Michaels,

First, a confession:  I am not a regular viewer of your Rock of Love series, but I have discussed it with my coworkers and surfed around the show's website enough that I have gotten the general hang of things.  I must say, what I have learned alarms me not a little.  While it's true that you don't know me and didn't ask for my advice, I would be remiss if I didn't alert you to what my husband with the MBA would call a serious flaw in your business plan.  You purport to be conducting your private affairs in full sight of the viewing public because you are searching for that one special someone with whom you can share your dreams, your hopes, your hair products.  While I don't doubt the sincerity of your efforts - well, okay, actually I *do* doubt the sincerity of your efforts, but we'll deal with that later on - your methodology is a little suspect.  Why?  Simply put, the very qualities that make someone a good life mate (maturity, predictability, emotional stability, a lack of homicidal impulses) make for crappy reality TV.  People don't watch your show to see you make a meaningful connection with a fellow human being on an emotional and intellectual level; they tune in to see crazy dames with unrealistically large implants and a surfeit of tattoos catfight over you.  The women selected as contestants on your show seem to trend heavily toward bartenders, "lingerie models," and practitioners of the burlesque arts.  While I'm sure all these ladies are genuinely interested in you for yourself and not for your ability to give them fifteen minutes of notoriety (cough, cough), they seem to share a certain lack of, er, equilibrium, let's say.  Call me naive, but somehow I don't think someone who is willing to dump salsa all over a fellow contestant's belongings will make a good life mate, hmmm?

Hey Everyone! I Made A Funny!

moar funny pictures

That "Men Are From Mars" Guy Got It All Wrong

A Treatise on Gender Relations
By:  India

Girls go to college
To get more knowledge
Boys go to Jupiter
To get more stupider

A Matter of Burning Social and Political Import

There's been something weighing on my mind, aside from the eight zillion unscored essays I've been lugging around for days ... oh, okay, weeks.

The back story:  I'm a LOLS addict, big time.  I have been known to giggle at inappropriate times (think serious marital confabs about money, the future, retirement, housing costs, et. al.) because I'm surreptitiously surfing "I Can Has Cheezburger" instead of listening to the Very Important Discussion in which I'm supposedly taking part.  I think ICHC is the funniest thing going.  I have to check the site several times a day just to make sure I haven't missed anything new.  I can't even look at my OWN cat without imagining a thought bubble over her head or a funny caption.  And yet...

...I can't get my own LOLs published. (hangs head in shame)

I'm willing to admit that my efforts are probably pretty lame in comparison to the submissions that make it onto the main site.  People are pretty damn funny.  But!  I thought I had a sure-fire winner last time!  There was no way this sucker wasn't going to make the cut!  I checked back on a regular basis the first day after I submitted this (for which read: every fifteen minutes) thinking I was sure to see my work sooner or later.  Sadly, sooner has turned to later and still nothin'.  So for the record, let me see what you think:

moar funny pictures

So - funny?  Or lame?

Ten to One

I'm tired, I'm cranky, I feel fat, the kids are whining, the sink is full of dirty dishes and the cat puked on the rug again - what better time to start a blog post?  To top it off, I've just tagged myself for a meme I stole borrowed from Crazylainetrain since no one EVER seems to tag me because clearly I am not one of the "in" bloggers and - oops, did I mention I'm cranky?  Anyway, here goes:

Ten Things I Wish I Could Say to Ten Different People Right Now:

10.  Sarah Palin, if you friggin' wink at me one more time when you're supposedly proving your fitness to be second in line for the most important job in the free world, well, you and I are going to throw down, sista, and it ain't gonna be pretty!  And by the way, I live on the East Coast!  And I don't like you any more than you like me!  So there!!

9.  Next time you embarrass me in public, India, I'm leaving you in the Goodwill drop box and don't you think I won't!

8.  You know something, Mrs. Jones, I know we have to have these 504 meetings to discuss your son's learning issues once a year.  Just this once, however, could we skip the hour-long monologue that encompasses your son's entire academic history going back to the first grade and just cut to the chase, which is about what we need to do *this year*?

7.  And while I'm at it, you should know that your son doesn't really have any major "learning issues," certainly none that require accommodations.  I hate to be the one to break it to you, but your son earns mediocre grades because he's not that bright.

6.  P.S.The other reason why your son doesn't do well in school is because he's sick and tired of you being all up in his grill all the time, so every time he sees you getting geared up to fly in and "fix" everything, he just stops working.  You know, I've had two kids myself, and my recollection is that they cut that cord right away.

5.  Oh, I dunno - hot seaweed wrap, salt scrub, hot stone massage - it's so hard to choose; I'll just try 'em all!

4.  Yeah, I think two carats is just the right size for an engagement ring upgrade, too!

3.  Do you have this in a size 4?  My size 6's are getting way too loose.

2.  You're tired and you want to go to bed early tonight?  Well, okay, but just this once!

1.  Another frozen daquiri, please, and keep 'em coming.

Nine Things About Me That I Haven't Blogged About Yet (I Think)

9.  When I was a senior in college, I had an asymmetrical hair cut.  It was truly awful.  I claim temporary insanity - it was 1988, after all.

8.  I am inordinately proud of the fact that I can grow long nails without having to resort to tacky acrylics.

7.  I often think longingly about going platinum blonde, but am too chicken to do it.

6.  I used to be a redhead, but I was so lazy I couldn't be bothered to keep up with the roots (hence the lack of follow-through with #7).

5.  I took my driver's test in the wintertime, which isn't that notable, except that a big highway plow went right by me when I was parallel parking and I didn't even notice.  Not a good sign, huh?

4.  When I was little I slammed my hand in the car door trying to make sure the seat belt didn't fall out of the car and get caught in the door latch mechanism.  Which it didn't - but my fingers sure did!

3.  Speaking of car-related disasters, when I was in elementary school, I fell out of a moving car.  Fortunately we were going very slowly, and I just got scraped up really badly.  Until I wrote this, I didn't realize how bad that could've been!

2.  I am named after both of my great-grandmothers.

1.  My nickname when I was little was Caroliney Rosey Posey Piddle Widdle.  I'm not sure, but I *may* have been a late toilet-trainer.

Eight Ways to Win My Friendship/Heart:

8.  Whoopie pies!  Nothing says, "I'd like you to be my friend," like two chocolaty cakes surrounding a whipped icing center.  Mmmm, icing....

7.  Did I mention diamonds?

6.  Sit next to me in any kind of mandatory faculty gathering and say snarky things.  I will heart u for life!

5. Say "I yuv yoo Mumma" in your cute little two-year-old voice (only works if you're Celeste, however).

4.  Talk like the Swedish Chef, or like a pirate on Talk Like a Pirate Day.  In public.

3.  Let me sleep in late.

2.  Make lunches for the girls - boy, do I hate having to make three lunches a day, every day, day in and day out, over and over and over and over....

1.  "Honey, why don't go lie down on the couch for awhile with your new book?  I know you've been really busy this week.  You deserve a break."

Seven Things That Cross My Mind A Lot

7. Why do I have to have stomach fat?  I mean, if I'm going to chub up, why can't it be someplace that could stand being chubbier, like my boobs?

6.  I remember when I was thrilled to have correcting to do ... but student teaching was only eight weeks long, not forty.

5.  I need to create a clone of myself whose sole purpose for being would be to correct papers and make parent phone calls.  And perhaps make the girls' lunches.

4.  How on earth am I going to teach [name topic here] so the kids don't totally hate it?

3.  Is there any chocolate in the break room?

2.  Now where exactly are my car keys, again?

1.  I want to win $5 million dollars in the lottery - enough for my husband to stay home and play househusband, which he would really enjoy, but not enough that I would feel compelled to quit my job too, which I really enjoy.  Then he could spend his day planning nutritious meals, ferrying various kids to various places, puttering around the house, and tending to our finances while I keep us in health insurance and retirement funds.  Everyone wins!

Six Things I Do Before I Fall Asleep

6.  Brush my teeth.

5.  Take off my eye makeup.

4.  Wash my face.

3.  Pee.

2.  Put on jammies.

1.  Contemplate reading a book or magazine for the approximately 3.2 seconds it takes between the time I crawl into bed and the time I fall asleep.

Five People (Aside From The Obvious Ones) Who Mean a Lot:

5.  Toasty

4. 3. 2. and 1.  My friends from high school with whom I'm still friends (in alpha order) Amy, Cathy, Donna, Elaine.

Four Things I'm Wearing Right Now

4.  My glasses (dorkenheimer specials)

3.  Fleece pants covered with feathers from the girls' dress-up feather boas that shed like sumbitches.

2.  A stained fleece, and

1.  A rust-colored turtleneck with a bleach stain on the sleeve.  Mmm, fancy!

Three Songs I've Been Listening To Lately

3.  Katie Perry, "I Kissed A Girl" - which is a rockin' song, but I tend to sing whatever I last heard on the car radio all day long at school, and when you teach middle school that just AIN'T APPROPRIATE!

2.  Kanye West, "Stronger" - "That, that, that which don't kill me/can only make me stronger/I need you to hurry up now/cuz I can't wait much longer" - a line that is almost as good as:  "You know how long I been on ya?/Since Prince been on Appolonia/Since O.J. has Isotoners" - the man is stone genius!

1.  House of Pain, "Jump" - I dunno, after a million repetitions on Wiggles and Dan Zanes, I need something LOUD.  And FIERCE. 

Two Things I Want To Do Before I Die

Mmmph.  This is hard.

2.  Take my girls traveling to all the places I've been and the many more places I'd like to go.

1.  Dress up all glamorous and go out somewhere fancy and important, like a White House reception.  And the French ambassador would see me and be all, "Mais oui!  Madame, vous etes un hot potato!  Je suis enchantee!  Magnifique!"  And he'd bow down low over my hand before raising it to his mouth for a kiss, as I haughtily (yet alluringly) say, "Sir!  Please! I am a married woman!" before turning on my heel and swanning off to be swept up in a conversation about how best to resolve the international banking crisis while - oops, I think I digressed there a bit.

One Confession

Sometimes I deliberately pretend I can't hear the girls when they're downstairs in the basement playroom and they want me to come down with them.  Does that make me a bad person?  I can live with that.