Pick two celebrities to be your parents

I read an article today pertaining to unique and somewhat odd questions companies are asking on interviews.  One that caught my eye:  ”Pick two celebrities to be your parents” (asked at Urban Outfitters).

Hmmmm.  I would have to ask for some time to give a serious answer on that one…my first thought was someone debonair, and immediately George Hamilton popped into my mind.  Except, I don’t like the slicked back hair, overly-tannned “whisper sweet nothings in your ear” kind of guy.  Ew.  Who wants a dad known as a womanizer?  Quickly nixed that.

Of course, they have to be someone realistically old enough to have been my parents. Amazing women popped into my mind like Meryl Streep, Diane Keaton, Kathleen Turner (smoker’s voice- too many ciggies), Goldie Hawn…

WAIT

Who wouldn’t want to be the “love-child” of Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell?  Kurt is so cute with those dimples.  Nah, that’s not creative enough…moving on:

Returning back to the dad, John Travolta’s imaged floated in my mind…except I wouldn’t want one of those dads mixed in with Scientology.  My dad would have to be a “funny guy.”  Images of Robin Williams, Billy Crystal, Chevy Chase, Danny Devito came to mind…no, no, NO, AND HELL NO.

One of my favorite movies of my youth, Smokey and the Bandit, popped into my head. Burt Reynolds…ew…back up there as the George Hamilton kind of ew.  Different types of guys (one slick/one crude), but ew just the same.  “Come over here and give me a little lip-lock.” YUCK!  In the very early years, handsome, but then…what’s up with the dark eyebrows and ‘stash?  The reason why my dad stopped with the facial hair, because gray was the first to appear there…is Burty dying it?

I’VE GOT IT…mixing humor with cute, I would be the love child of the “wild and crazy guy” Steve Martin and Sally Field.  Although he has the darker brow going, it looks distinguished.  Sally looks beautiful no matter the age, and always seems approachable and huggable, doesn’t she?  I loved her in the show Brothers and Sisters.  I leave you with FUNKY TUTTY…happy Friday!  Tell me, who would your mom and pop be?

Sending my kids in the next rocket to space- Reason #1- Sweaty fit

Yes, how much for 2 tickets?

Anyone else want to send their kids to the moon?

I get it.  No boy wants to shop.  However, there comes a time when you need to purchase clothes or be naked.  Unfortunately, my son would choose the latter.  However, living in our society comes with these dang laws, one of them requiring clothing.

A few years back, I purchased (3) pairs of Old Navy sweat pants for him.  These had ribbing elastic at the ankles, and drawstrings.  No matter that they were too long, or too big in the waist, it all worked fine…until he eventually grew and they became high-waters.  However, I could never get him to go shopping, so  we waited…

A couple of mornings ago, Gibson dressed himself and complained:

“What the heck…These are too short, mom” 

Accusing me as if I had, in the middle of the night, suddenly changed the size on him. So I instructed him to take them off, and did the worse thing…produced his one pair of jeans that still fit him perfectly.

Unfortunately, he had become so accustomed to wearing sweats, he threw a fit.  Seriously… lying on our living room floor and rolling around in his underwear, he refused to dress himself.  When they were eventually on his body, he whined:

“These aren’t comfooortable, mom!”  eeenh.  ”You’re so mean.”

They fit him fine, but they just feel heavier than the sweats.  He sat on the couch refusing to move, eat his breakfast or put on his shoes.  The last couple of days have been such an issue, we’ve run late to school both days.  One of the days, we were the last car to drive up, and the principal opened our car door…uh, Sorry, couldn’t get my 9 year old dressed.

The past couple of weeks, I had already been shopping and searching  for similar sweats at Old Navy.  Apparently, they stopped making the style we liked or placed them in the “vault.”  Can you unlock them?  Please?

Now all the sweats are the straight, athletic type of work-out pant, at all stores- including Target and Walmart.  Ugh!  They are either all too long, or too large in the waist without a drawstring.  Same for the jeans, too long, too tight, too big…too something.  I spent my last week returning items.

After the fit, My husband decided to get involved.  He made plans to take our son shopping after school that day.  However, the younger sister talked dad into letting her go, as well.  I laughed.  Dad was warned.  He could (should) have left Samantha in Kids Factory.

Surely enough, although they know better…the kids ran up and down the aisles, playing hide-n-seek in the clothing racks.  My husband came home, reached for a beer, and said “I didn’t know who the kids were.  They acted like they were 3, and they were so LOUD.  How come our kids are so loud?”

Their expedition to JC Penney and Sears, and Macy’s took a few hours.  They, too, had similar jeans as Target/Walmart/Old Navy.  He confirmed what I already knew.  Nothing fits our son.  Levi’s fit, but when bending down, there was a large gap produced showing his underwear.

What my husband loved most about their adventure:  In the fitting room, looking over all the pants, Gibson pointed to his favorite.  “Those are comfortable.”  They were the jeans he already owned…the very same ones he had a fit wearing that same morning.  **sigh**

They did find a perfect fitting Adidas sweatpant! Except, now I had a fit at the $27.00 price!

Those Amish are so resourceful- they’ll talk you into anything

I’ve worked at various places over the years.  As an administrative person, and as an office manager, you come across all the peculiar personalities in an office environment.  Then, there are the jobs that the customer is very unique.  Whether it be co-workers, or the client, there is plenty of great blogging material.

This scenario happened while I worked for a low-income real Estate investment company.  Investors provide money to purchase properties in pools (bulk) from Fannie Mae that foreclosed.  In turn, we place them on Craigslist, selling very inexpensively as-is, meaning often in a state of disrepair.  It is a great program for the lower-income community, giving them a chance to own their own property.  These individuals then sign “land contracts,” usually a loan for 30 or 20 years, producing a very low, monthly payment.   Think rent-to-own.

The mentality of most of  the home owners was very interesting to say the least.  Usually, they had difficulty understanding that they didn’t yet own the property, and would not receive the deed in their name, until paid in full.  Or they viewed it as rent, and completely optional.  They would forget to pay, and we had to remind them monthly, “We need to get a payment,” which would often turn into a lengthy conversation of excuses- not kidding, I heard:

• I had to buy dog food, it’s very expensive you know/my dog is sick/ died
• I’m a tattoo artist, and ex-convict trying to make ends meet
• my kid is in the hospital, with 3 degree burns and my youngest is a special needs child (we think she was lying about the hospital)
• waiting on child support check, for some reason I didn’t get it this week…
• had to pay child support/garnished wages”unexpectedly” for said child support. (damn those kids- they expect you to provide for them?)
• I had surgery (yes, last year on your toe for ingrown toenail)
• I have breathing problems/lung cancer/throat cancer (yes 3 years ago)
• I was incarcerated (I don’t care it wasn’t your fault- you’re out now-)
• Everything was ripped off out of my car, debit card, license, passport—can’t possibly go to the bank- all my stuff is gone.  (Why was your passport in the car?  You always carry that around?  How convenient that you can’t get any money from the bank.)
• I’m taking care of my grandkids.  I have to fix the roof, I’ve got the 9-year-old grandson helping me.  I’m on limited income  (what happened to the parents?  Are they in prison?  Your grandson is on the roof?)
• I want to reduce my payments so I can make house repairs or can you fix? (what part of ‘as is’ don’t you get?  This is owning a home.)
• Lightening struck, and wires came down on my roof, started a fire.  Electric company came out and I don’t have correct electrical box that required an electrician to do some extra work.  Paid out so much money, can’t afford mortgage payment.  (give us receipts- they never came.)
• Everyone is out of work.  (you just got the house.  Did you really have jobs to begin with?)

Oh, the elaborate stories!  Dang, some of these people had such rotten luck, their Grandma died… 3 times that year… the same grandma!   Yes, they can come up with some faux tear-jerkers.

It was one of these phone calls, where someone decided  they couldn’t afford the monthly payment, and wanted to return the property back to us, via our ”Voluntary Surrender” program.  Therefore, we sent one of our repair guys to inspect the property and prep it for the new home owner.

As our representative was taking photographs, he noticed there was no garage.  That’s odd.  The listing reflects a 1-car garage.  He called us, and we called the occupant.

“What’s going on with the garage?  We’re told it’s… missing?

“Oh, yeah, didn’t I tell you?  I donated it to the Amish for a school.”

You what?  Wow.  None of us saw that one coming.  How nice to donate our garage.  He couldn’t understand why there was an issue.  It was his house after living there 6 months, and making only 1 payment, right?  By the way, I wanna give it back- obligation free- uhh…minus a garage, okay?  Okey-dokey, then!

What I’d like to know, how did they come get it?  Those Amish are so clever and quite resourceful.  Proceed with caution: they will talk you into donating something that doesn’t belong to you and quickly cart if off on their wagon.

 

 

 

 

 

Plastic, blast-it! ugh!

Dear Costco and Crest, we ran out of this product and my husband brought home the 2 pack.  Relief was seconds away, no bad breath for me…until I realized the plastic.  WHY????  Do you not want your customers actually using your product?

Those of you who know me personally, or have been reading my blog for awhile, know I’m plastically challenged.  Hey, don’t make fun…it’s a more common condition than you realize.

Looking at the connector **SIGH**  Now how am I going to get that off…

I tried tugging slightly and no budge.  I thought, oh, twist off both caps and then the plastic lifts right off the bottles easily.  Nope.  (which by the way, isn’t a bad idea Crest)  However, with the current bottle design, all the product would be sloshed out of the containers.  Caps back on…scratch my head…wiggled them a bit more and knocked over my son’s legos.  OH, crap!  Please don’t let any of the teeny-tiny pieces have broken off, my son will kill me!  Whew, all intact, close call.

**Hey, wait…***

How ’bout we use the lego to ‘blast’ off the plastic?

Shoot the darn legos cost so much, they should be able to do something like that, right?  I willed it to be, but the trooper just sat there.

Scissors were tried, nope…barely made an indentation, no cut.

Realization set in, they actually want you to tug that thing over the top.  Those sharp looking inside edges are apparently supposed to stretch over the thickness of the bottle and ridges.  With what machine?  I don’t think the “rubber husband” will work on that.  (you know, the item that helps women open jars)  With much struggle, I was able to pop one side up over a time.  So much work for just one bottle…CRAP…no wonder they are plastic bottles.  People frickin’ throw ‘em across the room in frustration!

I had to put myself on a time-out…retreat to my blog.  I’m off to tackle bottle number 2 now.  Blasted Plastic!  I do not like you, but you WILL NOT WIN.  Where’s my battle gear?  I better find GOLD inside…

Thomas Jefferson was a Filthy Cheese Whore?

Looking up information on cheese, I came across the story of the Cheshire Mammoth Cheese.  There seems to be some speculation mixed with facts.  This is how it played in my mind:

What a grand idea a religious leader had:

“Hey, to show our respect, let’s get together and make this huge block of cheese and deliver to the president; We’ll include a letter with our political views.  Doesn’t that sound fantastic?”

The farmers agreed and went a-milkin’ as others modified the Cider Press.  Everyone stood in awe over their creation of the 4 foot wide, 15 inch thick hunk of cheese, weighing between 1200-1600 pounds.

Wow.  That’s some cheese.

Um, anyone think about how we’re going to transport this to Washington, D.C.?

Since they deemed it too dangerous to place on wheels, heck, they couldn’t even get it UP on wheels…someone suggested a sleigh.  Brilliant!  Fortunately, it was winter time (or maybe it wasn’t, and they had to wait until winter), so the route to DC was snowy…and hopefully downhill.  Whew, problem solved…load off their minds, and that thing was getting stinky.

The Religious leader steered the sleigh and went a-preachin’ along the way.  It took 3 weeks to travel 500 miles.  Meanwhile, neighboring cities along the route were all inquiring “Hey, what’s that smell?”

Upon being presented the gift, Jefferson was so amazed at the extraordinary skill of domestic pungent art, what did he do?

He cut the cheese.

Yup.

Then, he read their political views, and paid the congregation, “$200.00 in gratitude (over 50% of market price)”  Further, he wrote a letter pertaining to “A wall of Separation,” the beginnings of separating Church and State.  Well, this “Atheist approach” freaked everyone out, and some people started burying their bibles and hiding them in wells from the filthy, cheese-whore administration that was surely bound to burn them!

So during the time Bibles were being hidden, what happened to the Mammoth cheese?  A section remained, and got stinkier, stinkier over the 2 years at the mansion.  Eventually, it decayed quite significantly becoming full of maggots.  It was dumped into the Potomac River, where the fish got to feast.  Everyone/thing loves cheese!

The Cider-converted-to-cheese press is now a monument because all of the above started with a Reverend acting like Santa Clause, and delivering this massive, dairy present to the BIG CHEESE in DC.  It’s too bad they didn’t have T-Shirts to express this sentiment back then.  Or Ben Franklin wasn’t alive to consult:

“Yo, Benny!  I’m thinking of making the biggest cheese ever and giving it to the pres.  Whaya think ’bout that?”

“Logistics might be a problem.  What are the dimensions and weight?  How will you transport?  How long will it take?  The product will be a little maggoty upon delivery.  I suggest running a shirt through a printer, producing the same sentiment.”

“oh, right!  I didn’t think about that!  Good point.”

So I read two references (here and here) on this subject.  Not a whole lot of research.  That was the quick gist I got from briefly scanning articles.  Really, it all started with cheese?  Fascinating.

_________________________________________________________

About the Title:  Have you read Justin Gowel’s blog, Ramblings from an Apathetic Adult Baby?  His unique phrasing is intriguing.  I’ve commented a couple of times that I need to insert one of his phrases in a blog post of my own.  On his recent post pertaining to cheese, he wrote”Filthy Cheese Whore” and in our comments, he challenged me to write something using the phrase.

Well, Mr. Gowel…how’d I do?

Shih Tzu- a crappy night’s sleep

Doesn’t this little doggie look innocent?  He’s just so loveable!

Who would have guessed this cutie-pie can stir quite a ruckus?  We’ve gotten used to normal dog sounds of shaking, and jingling of tags/chain when scratching, and the occasional whimper of a bad dream during the evening.  Most of the time our dog sleeps in his bean-bag bed pretty quietly and soundly.

However, last night was pretty cold, so he decided to join us in bed.  Ozo is fine to cuddle right between us, UNTIL, he begins making that chewing/smacking his lips noise.  It’s inevitable.  Last night was no different, he began smackin’ and  I waited for him to stop so sleep could return to us all…but the thing is…the dog doesn’t stop!  He never does, it just goes on…and on… smack/smack/smack (Or he decides to clean his paws…lick/lick/lick)

“OZO, STOP IT!” as I give him a sort-of-soft nudge with my foot while half asleep and  My husband wakes to my yell…”What the hell, hon?” totally PO’d because he hadn’t heard the dog until I woke him.  I mumble something in my sleep.  Now all he can hear is the noise  “GET DOWN” and he promptly pushes our dog off the bed.

**This scenario happens every time the dog attempts to sleep with us.**

Poor Ozo.  Normally, this doesn’t affect him much and he wanders off to his own bed.  However, this time he shook, and shook like he does out of a bath…the jangling of tags and chain… after about 10 shakes, and a pause, and stare of longing at our bed (I opened one eye to see him waiting.)  “OUT.”  Bellows my husand as he, too, can feel the dog’s presence.

Off Ozo  goes to get a drink of water which is what he obviously needs for his dry mouth.  I know this, because I can hear him lapping up the water, chains hitting the metal bowl.  Clank, clank, clank.  Shake, shake, rattle, rattle…he settles somewhere.  All is quiet and sleep returns…for about 5 minutes.

Next thing I can feel, tapping of feet at the side of my mattress, his body slamming the side of my bed to peer atop.  I know he’s debating of jumping up…back down to the ground…back up, slamming the bed with his two front paws and peering again, drops back down with a sigh & snort, and then he goes for it…jumps back up on the bed.  I figure it must be really cold, and we’ll give it another shot.  Immediately, he settles and launches the smackety-smack again…WTF?  my groan apparently  woke my hubby “NO!”  he roars and throws Ozo off the bed.

Poor dog.  Shake, Shake, rattle, rattle…Bill gets up to remove his collar and toss him in the bean bag “STAY.”  I heard such a big sigh from a little dog, who realized his fate.

If it’s not this scenario, I’m waking to his doggie Night Terrors.  Yes, he’s had a few episodes of where he begins howling, and snorting, and howling so loudly.  I run to him, half asleep, trying to make it stop before the kids wake.  It takes a few minutes to snap him out of the dream that seems to be sheer toture for him.  Really?  Between the dog and my kids, I’m not getting any sleep.  Those of you with infants, it doesn’t get better…just different…sorry to rip that idea to shreds.  Your older kids will wake you as they have bad dreams, bouts of insomnia, or illnesses, or to complain about their sibling’s snoring…it’s always something!  A race car squealing it’s tires outside your window, a neighbor’s older kid riding their motorized scooter at midnight down your street…

My mom was right, once you have kids (pets) you will never sleep soundly again…always one ear open, ready to pop up for duty, and once kids are teenagers, listening for the door indicating their safe return.  Crap.

Letters to Mirabel- The Glamorous Life

Dear Mirabel:

After walking the kids to school today, which we did with you in mind… I had to go shopping for some clothes for the kids. Target had a sale on sparkly apparel, obviously these were intended for New Year’s Eve or even Christmas. Since the price was reduced greatly, I thought they were perfect for Samantha’s dress-up entertainment. This got me to thinking about her crazy antics and you. I went back into my my photo archives for some shots.

Very soon you’ll be walking, and shoving your feet into your mom and dad’s shoes. Someone will buy you some princess costumes with plastic, matching heels. Samantha always tried to sneak up on me, but I could hear the clop-clop-clop of “Jasmine’s” even on carpet. However, she never ceased to surprise me with her creations and how she could be a glam/ham…gussied in hand-me-down ballet costumes from her cousin.  What outfits will you conjure and make your parents laugh?

Well, it won’t be long until you’re up to your own antics.  Until then, we’ll be getting Fancy for you and living the Glamorous Life.  I think Samantha just might be the next Fergie, and maybe you can be one of her dancers?

Click here for info on challenge.  Click here for Mirabel public Facebook page.