Table Topics

I was over visiting The Nuthouse and she has a Table Topic Tuesday that I thought I would ring in on.

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If I were to get a tattoo today, what would it be?

Well…I already have one.  I got it when I was 19 and showing my rebellious side.   I snuck off to a tattoo parlor in a seedy part of Detroit (SORRY MOM – the truth shall set me free) with one of my sorority sisters to get inked.  The first time I tried they were closed.  You’d think I’d change my mind and wimp out.  Nope. I went back the next week and went under the needle.  And what does a young impressionable girl get?  Why what else but a sorority tattoo.  It’s a heart, with ivy growing around it.  It has the greek letters at the end (Alpha Phi) and in the center of the heart, it reads AOE.  If you are a Phi, you know what it means.

It’s tasteful and faded.  I thought about getting it touched up, but then I remember (and cringe) at the pain I felt when it was done.  Small of my back.  No fat there.  Although now there is probably enough padding back there to make it bearable….And Hubby loves to joke that when I am old and wrinkled my tattoo will sag below my ass.  Probably so…these aren’t the kinds of things you think about at 19.  Right?

In recent years I have thought about adding to it…or getting another one.  But Hubby doesn’t really want me to do either.  However IF I did it again the tat would revolve around my children.  I think I would get each of their initials.  And some type of design.  But I don’t know where I would get it.  And now that I have matured (snicker snicker) I would probably think twice about doing it.

So tell me…if you were to get a tattoo right now, what would it be?

Comment here, comment there, comment on your own blog and be sure to link up with The Nuthouse and add your blog to the list.

Saturday Afternoon at the Grocery Store

Picture it…no kids.  Freedom.  Quiet time in the car.  A Starbucks in hand.  And where do you think I am headed?  To the grocery store.  On Saturday afternoon.  In the rain.  WTF was I thinking???

Some casual observations:

1)  15 items or less.  Read it.  Heed it.  Own it.  25 of the same item does NOT equal 1 item.  See that LOOOONNNNGGG line over there?  That’s where you belong.

2)  If you are going to use the self-check lane, whether it’s the quickie 15 items of less (see #1) or the no limit line – GET OFF YOUR FUCKING CELL PHONE.  I don’t think there is anything that important that  you can’t hang up, scan your items and call the person back when you are done.  Multitasking is not for everyone so just stick to one thing at a time.

3) Just like on the road, keep your cart to the right of the aisle.  Don’t play chicken with the on-coming carts on the left and DON’T for god sake’s go straight down the middle.  I understand you need things on both sides of the aisle but will stopping your cart and walking 3 paces to the other side to grab that jar of spaghetti sauce really kill you?  Probably not.

4) Next time I go grocery shopping I am going to take a page out of the book of the woman I saw listening to her ipod.  What a brilliant idea.  Tune out the idiots at the store with a few tunes.  I will have to remember that.

5)  The free sample tables are not meant to be lunch for a family of 5.  Do I need to even elaborate on this one?  I don’t think so.

6)  Deli counter – I asked for a 1/2 pound of turkey breast.  Not 3/4 nor the FULL pound you gave me.  Don’t play dumb.  I ordered a 1/2 pound of everything else I got because never in a million years will I eat a whole pound of turkey lunch meat before it goes bad.  The words running through my mind when you handed me the little ziploc bag  and ask “Oh, did you only want a 1/2 pound” was “Did I stutter?”  – Picture it.  Judd Nelson.  Breakfast Club.   Do they teach you that in deli-counter school…it’s all about the upsell?

7) Starbucks in the grocery store – fabulous idea.  I don’t typically drink coffee in the afternoon – it’s a hot/cold thing – but my smooth roast coffee with full fat half and half put me in a zen place before I even started shopping.

Needless to say, I survived.  By the hair on my chinny chin chin.   (No worries, I plucked that hair as soon as I got home)  But don’t expect to see me cruising the grocery store aisles on a Saturday afternoon anytime soon.

Art Homework

Avery has a yellow folder that she brings home from school every day.  I make it a point to immediately open it and see what she brought home.  Usually it’s your general assortment of fundraiser fliers and art work that she made that week.   Nothing out of the ordinary.

Until today…

She came home with this cutout.  I turned it over, inspected it.  Pondered.  Finally I had to ask “Hey Avery, what’s this?”  Her response “It’s a rabbit, Mommy.  I have to put a face on it for school.”

Really?

Please pardon me while I trudge back to the gutter, looking for my dirty mind.  Ok?

Friday Follow

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Thirsty Thursday

Courtesy of Hair Bows and Guitar Picks

Bottoms Up Friends, it’s almost the weekend!

String of bad luck

I have had a monstrous string of shitty things happen to me in the recent weeks.

A couple of weeks ago, my semi-new (2006) car died on me.  Simply started stalling.  In the middle of traffic.  While I have two children in the backseat.  I managed to get it started and could putter home.  Turns out a computer device was broken and I didn’t have to pay for it.  But still, I was without a car for a day.  (Thank goodness for fathers-in-law who are retired who follow you to the dealership and good friends – Michelle – who take your daughter to dance class at last minute notice.)

The next day, I get my car back.  Come home to do more laundry and find that our sewer has backed up into the basement.  ALL.FUCKING.OVER.  Stuff was soaked.  $260 later the Roto-Rooter man was skipping down the walk with my check in hand and I had a mess to clean up.  This included all of the sorted, waiting-to-be-washed laundry, all over the basement floor.  Yuck.  We are good for awhile but it seems we have no storm trap and that will cost us 2500 smackaroonies.

Fast Forward from Thursday to Monday.  Flood is cleaned up.  Car is working.  And my damn  washer breaks down.  9 years old.  Given me a lot of trouble already.  It’s a front loader and it keeps telling me that the door is open, which it’s not.  If that were the case, I would be able to open the stupid machine and remove Avery’s *friend* – her constant blanket companion and Carson’s Rabbit – of which the ears are CONSTANTLY in his mouth.

INSERT VISUAL FOR MAXIMUM DRAMATIC EFFECT:

You see, I was washing their beloved lovies when the fucking machine broke.  Carson was too young to understand and Avery was a trooper by using her *backup friend* but still.

I panicked, got a service call in, but they could only come on Tuesday.  So I called Maytag and begged.  Pleaded.  Offered my blood to see if there was a way to get the door open.  Here’s how it went:

Me: long winded explanation of how the door is stuck closed.

Customer Service: Ok, I will be happy to help you.  I need the model and serial number of your unit.

Me:  I don’t have that information handy.

CS:  Well, it is located inside the door of your unit.

Me (thinking): HEY ASSHOLE, I know you are reading from a script but didn’t you listen to my predicament?

Me (saying): I’m sorry but my door is STUCK shut.  I can’t open it to give you that information.

CS: Well, I don’t know how much I can help. But I’ll Try.

Me:  Thank you.  I just want to know if there is ANY way to get the door open to get out the wet clothes.

CS:  (long pause)  Well, without the serial number I cannot give you that information.

Me (thinking):  COME THE FUCK ON.

Me (saying):  Ok, thank you.

On the next afternoon, the very polite man from the repair company comes and looks at my machine.  He reaches into the detergent dispenser and pulls a little green cord and the door pops open.  It’s a standard feature on all of these particular Maytag models.  Why the freakedy freaking freak could that jerk-off on the phone NOT tell me that if it’s standard?  So Friend and Rabbit were rescued from the deep dark depths of my washer unscathed.  And the wonderful man reset the machine and I was back in business.

Bad things come in threes…

Until today that is.  I hope that it was just the bonus round and not the start of another 3.  KWIM?

I dropped my iPhone.  On our gravel driveway.  Facedown.  Did I mention that it’s not really pea-sized gravel but sharp-cornered rocks?  It cracked.  Big time.  Last night I took it to the Apple store and they could either:

1.  Replace the screen for $199

2.  Replace the phone for $199

3.  I could go to AT&T and get a new one (where we have a contract eligible for an upgrade) for $199.

How’s that for price fixing?  In the end I decided to keep using it til it dies and then get a new one.  I really want to get the 3Gs with the video feature.  So I will wait.  And watch as pieces of my screen fall off.

I just can’t help but wonder…did I happen to break a mirror while standing under a ladder, up which a black cat ran?  Nope.  That’s just Life in Beverly Hills…

Going Rogue

Remember this post?

We finally bought our own Ken doll.  It was Avery’s idea…to buy it as a gift for Hubby, knowing he would turn it over to her.  It’s a Malibu Ken.  Complete with board shorts, muscle shirt and flipflops..  Now I question the color…purple.  But that’s what the princess wanted.

Not long after we got Ken, I found this….

Naked Ken in a hot tub covered in a blanket.  Gee, I wonder where his other hand is?  Spanking the proverbial monkey?  Thinking about how Barbie dissed him?

Then Ken disappeared.  Like Sarah Palin, he was going rogue.  He jumped in the Jeep and headed for the hills.  But Barbie Mommy found him.  Buried in Avery’s bed.  And once he was found, he was immediately dressed in his new threads.

Apparently Ken likes the hot tub…

Later that same day…Barbie and Ken must have gone to the prom.  And Ken gave Barbie a corsage.  However there must not have been anywhere to pin it.  Oh what the hell? He must have thought.. I’ll just put it here…

I have all kinds of things I could say about Barbie.  And Ken.  But Avery LOVES playing with them.  Her imagination is fantastic.  But Mommy’s mind…you can usually find it in one place.  THE GUTTER.  Hence this next photo…

WTF?  Ken took the bed and left Barbie to crash on the floor?  At least he left her pants close by.  But what is that green thing on the floor? It looks sort of funny shaped…like it could be a…

Oh nevermind.  It’s just a Polly Pocket piece.

ETA:  Name this picture…how many Barbies does it take…