Depending on your source, “ludicrosity” may or may not be a word. I honestly thought I made it up, but it’s littered all over the web – which just goes to show you that it’s impossible to be original any more.
Ever since I realized that my anti-depressant was making me happier than everyone else, then found out that someone obviously switched it with a placebo right at the moment that I was about to receive some not-so-anti-depressing news, I have been experiencing weird moments of ludicrosity that I decided I should start chronicling. If you don’t think they are funny, don’t tell me. Because I will start crying.
I had the above online exchange with a student who kept posting on Edmodo without following our class rules.
Kind of begs the question, “Why the heck did you put a door there if it CAN NEVER BE OPENED?!!!!”
So many things to love about this app. The price, the name of the company, the fact that 116 people have rated it already…
This is what happens when you buy a cheap bluetooth keyboard; they give you instructions that were apparently written by the student featured in my first image…
And finally, I think this was actually meant to be funny. I hope.
It turns out my anti-depressant only works when there is nothing to be depressed about. Which seems kind of ineffective. I mean, if your medication isn’t going to help you look on the bright side of things when you find out that your dog probably needs $1500 surgery – TWICE – then, really, what’s the point of taking it?
As I mentioned in the last post, Wonderbutt has been limping. Cap’n Firepants and I could not agree on which leg was hurt, which was embarrassing to admit to the vet. We were pretty sure it was a back leg, but the darn dog has two of those. I was certain he was favoring the left one, and the Cap’n was equally sure it was the right one. It turned out that I was right. And I’ve never been so depressed about being correct. Because the Cap’n was right, too, apparently. According to the vet, it appears that Wonderbutt tore the ligaments in both of his rear knees.
So, first of all, I didn’t even know that Wonderbutt has knees. I still can’t find them. Who’s the stupid idiot who decided to give dogs knees? Next, you’re going to tell me they have elbows, too.
Secondly, the vet does not know this for sure. So we must pay $500 to be certain with X-rays that must be done while Wonderbutt is anesthetized. (Apparently, the vet is doubtful that Wonderbutt will be relaxed enough to get good X-rays done while he is awake.) Then, we get to fork out the $3000. Which should be very interesting since we don’t happen to have that in our Swiss bank account right now.
I came home from the vet, and decided that the best way to deal with this information would be to take a nap.
Another astounding revelation – naps at 10:30 in the morning really don’t help to combat the threat of oppressive veterinary bills and a hobbled bulldog.
In the meantime, our daughter, Dimples (who has a “touch” of scoliosis, and needs to go to a specialist so we can get more specific bad news) is alive with the Christmas spirit. She is cheerfully dancing around the house, decorating, and delighting at placing ornaments in unusual spots for me to find. Her birthday happens to be in a few days, so nothing is going to dampen her good cheer.
And my mother-in-law called this morning to see when we were going to pick her up for Thanksgiving. Which we did. Yesterday.
We all find our own ways of avoiding reality, I suppose.
Friends and family might tell you that I am a fairly ethical person. (If the topic came up. But, really, why would it? I mean, are you going to be standing around together at some bar talking about how the Cowboys lost again, and then say, “Hey, you know that Mrs. Cap’n Firepants? Would you say that she is ethical?”) The truth, though, whether you choose to discuss it or not, is that I am less ethical than I am scared of being caught doing something wrong. Which really stems from my caring way too much about what other people think about me. And that pretty much explains everything about me in a nutshell, according to my psychiatrist anyway.
The reason this makes me a horrible dog mom is that our dog, Wonderbutt, has been limping for a week and a half. He has done this before, and recovered in about 5 or 6 days. But he does not seem to be recovering this time. So, I’m thinking he needs to be taken to the vet. But I don’t want to take him. Because I know that they are going to say the only way they can help him is going to cost me a million dollars and 95 cents. And then I’m going to have to sell a lung or something. Which leads me back to the problem of worrying about getting caught, because I think that’s kind of illegal.
The thing is, I have had a brochure on Pet Insurance on my desk for the last year, and I keep putting off purchasing it because I’m too lazy to do the research on the 65 different pet insurance companies and Consumer Reports says that I would do just as well to open a savings account for my pet (which I haven’t done, either). Considering that I only have $2 in my daughter’s savings account, I figure the dog probably should not take precedence. Of course, the daughter does have health insurance – just maybe not a future college education. But, does my dog need a future college education?
Now I’m confused.
I realize, now, that if I had the Pet Insurance it might offset some of the million dollars. But I don’t. But I could get it, and then I could hang out for the waiting period, and then take Wonderbutt in to the vet.
But I can’t do that.
Besides the fact that I’ve just advertised that I even entertained the thought of trying to take advantage of that little loophole, there is the small matter of the fact that I always get caught when I do something wrong. Always.
Plus, there is the possibility that Wonderbutt is in pain. Though it’s hard to tell because he always looks unhappy, and he is snoring and farting just as much as usual.
To compound my guilt, I ran across this product, and immediately thought, “What idiot would buy this? IF MY HOUSE IS ON FIRE I AM NOT GOING TO TAKE THE TIME TO STRAP A FIREPROOF COAT ONTO MY DOG!” And then I felt bad. Especially when I read the part about protecting my dog from falling objects when we walk through construction areas. I can’t believe that I am so selfish that I haven’t already bought this for Wonderbutt just in case Wile E. Coyote tries to drop an anvil on him the next time we go for a walk.
Which we can’t even do because the poor dog is limping.
UPDATE: I just realized that I should not advertise this coat as being Anvil Proof. I don’t really think it can keep you from getting smushed by an anvil. So, if this is a real concern of yours, please don’t buy this coat based on my advice. Truth be told, I am not really advising that you buy this product at all. (I’m covered, legally, now. Right?)
If your child is not a Rainbow Loom fanatic, then you are truly missing out. Just about every kid I know, boys and girls, are carrying around cases of miniature rubber bands and looming like crazy whenever they have a spare moment. The other day, I kid you not, a group of girls created a Rainbow Loom jump-rope during recess time.
Finding a birthday gift that is Rainbow Loom-related these days should be easy. The problem is trying to find something the kid wants, but doesn’t have. So, I was thrilled to discover this book on Amazon that seems to be difficult to find. There’s two sellers, though. Which one do you think I should choose?
So, I finally seem to have found a great anti-depressant that allows me to feel somewhat sane and fairly happy. The only problem is that it seem to have the side-effect of making every other adult I know completely despondent. And, you know, it’s not really any fun being happy when you’re the only one smiling.
I can’t find any warnings about this on the paperwork provided by the pharmacy. But it’s clear to me that, while my medication is helping me, it is slowly depleting the jubilance levels of the rest of society. Before I started taking this medicine, everyone was way happier than me. Now, suddenly, these same people are cheerless and glum – and peering at me very suspiciously. It’s enough to make me go back to being depressed.
Even my dog, Wonderbutt, glares at me like I’m insane for experiencing any kind of joy.
I feel like a Tigger in a world of Eeyores.
Except Tigger wouldn’t care.
So, maybe a better analogy would be that I’m a Piglet who took one sip too many of Tigger’s 5 Hour Energy Drink. Now, instead of being debilitatingly anxious about everything, I am anxious that I am debilitatingly happy about everything that no one else seems to find remotely joyful.
I am depressed that I am not depressed.
As the holiday season approaches, I start looking at one of my browser bookmark folders in which I save gift ideas throughout the year. To some of you, this may sound like an extraordinarily organized and proactive way to handle shopping for presents. In reality, though, it’s like some kind of cryptic diary that my psychiatrist would probably love to get his hands on. The problem is that I indiscriminately bookmark items of interest to that folder. It’s possible that I thought of someone when I saved each one, but I don’t actually label them with anyone’s names. Some of them are gift ideas for me. Some of them might be good for hostess gifts. And some of them would be better off never invented.
For example, could someone please tell me why I felt the need to bookmark the Star Wars sunshade?
My husband loves Star Wars, but I’m pretty sure this gift would quickly find its way to File 13 if I chose to stuff it in his stocking.
And which of my beloved family and friends was I planning to bestow this lovely gift on? It’s an alarm clock that sends your own money to your most hated charity every time you hit “Snooze.”
Could someone please tell me exactly what was I drinking when I saw this Golf Drinking Game, and thought it would surely make a great gift for someone some day?
I have about 100 products that I’ve saved in this folder since January – and about 2.75 of them make viable gifts.
So, the question is, which will offend people more? Receiving a Star Wars car sunshade, or getting a polite phone call from me requesting that we put our relationship on hold until after the holidays?
I guess I just need to consult Dr. Freud’s Therapy Ball.
Can someone send me one for Christmas?
Well, it’s sex education time again in the Firepants household. This year, our daughter, Dimples, gets to keep us involved by asking us questions each night for homework. I dutifully answered last night’s questions, so I assigned her dad, Cap’n Firepants this evening’s responses. They were fairly innocuous questions, (“What do you remember about the friends you had when you were my age?”) so I felt like it was a fair request. While Dimples was interviewing him, I took a peek at the ones for tomorrow night, knowing the responsibility would fall back onto my shoulders. The theme for tomorrow seems to have something to do with self-confidence, asking questions like, “How did you feel about yourself when you were my age?” I think I can handle that.
Then I saw the ones for Friday night. Haha, Cap’n Firepants. You’re in for a treat…
“What do you know about sexually transmitted diseases?” I asked Cap’n Firepants right about the time he was feeling like he’d dodged a bullet with tonight’s interrogation.
“Nothing,” he said quickly. The teacher in me was about to reprimand him for lack of elaboration. Then I thought about it. What, exactly, is the right way to answer that question when asked by your 10 year old daughter? Is it better to claim ignorance than to risk implying that we know a bit too much? If I pass the buck to Cap’n Firepants, is he going to shame our family forever by saying too little or way too much? NOBODY WARNED ME THAT I WOULD STILL BE RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS INFORMATION 30 YEARS AFTER I TOOK THE CLASS.
Can someone do me a solid and slip me the crib notes?
The other day, I got a 59 cent refund from Amazon.com. I didn’t even ask for the refund. They just sent it to me. Something about a book I pre-ordered and the price changing after they sent it.
My experience with Amazon has been pretty good. Other than the time they wrapped my nephew’s birthday gift in Happy Hannukah paper, I can’t say that I have any complaints. I’ve got to admit, I’m pretty impressed with a bazillion dollar global company that makes it a point to give me back my 59 cents.
So, I was thinking about how life would be different if Jeff Bezos, the founder of Amazon, was brought in to fix the Affordable Health Care Website. I mean, this man knows how to take care of a lot of people at once all over the globe. Surely he could figure out how to manage health care for hundreds of thousands of people in one measly country.
The more I think about it, the more certain I am that Jeff Bezos is the man for the job. So, here is my list of features that you would find on the Bezos version of the Affordable Health Care site. I’ll let you decide if they would be improvements or not…
Once you sign up (which would, of course, be remarkably simple):
- You would be welcomed, by NAME, every time you visit the site.
- Relevant doctors would be recommended to you based on your recent search history.
- Every doctor would have his or her own page, and there would be customer reviews.
- You can search for doctors by price, customer review, or average appointment wait time.
- Place procedures in your Shopping Cart, and wait for notification that the price has gone down so you can snatch up the better deal. (Hooray – now I can get that kidney transplant I’ve had my eye on for awhile!)
- Choose a doctor, and then see the other physicians patients have visited after that one. Does that proctologist have a disturbingly high number of patients who subsequently end up at a different proctology office? Since that isn’t really the kind of experience you want to repeat, you might want to choose a different doctor…
- People can bestow Medical Gift Cards upon you. (I’ve been noticing you need that mole removed. Here’s a gift card for that.)
- You can put desired medical procedures on a Wish List, and people can gift them to you for your birthday. (Thanks, Uncle Fred! I’ve been needing that colonoscopy for awhile!)
I’m sure my brilliant readers can think of many other advantages to Amazon HealthCare. You should definitely list them in the comments below. Just like Amazon, I value customer feedback!
But don’t expect any refunds from me.
Our bulldog, Wonderbutt, has been growing increasingly disenchanted with his own bottom lately. To be honest, I know how he feels. But I think his unhappiness might not be for cosmetic reasons.
We took him to the vet yesterday, and she postulated that the poor guy might need a tail amputation.
Have you seen Wonderbutt’s butt? He has no tail.
I pointed this out to the vet, and she kindly explained that, despite the fact that he appears to be lacking in this region, he actually has a very deep “pocket” where the tail was supposed to be. And this pocket seems to be the source of our the poor guy’s discomfort. She showed me what they would amputate, and it looked to be about 1/3 of his butt. “And then it would just be one smooth region,” she said. I almost asked if they offered any two for one deals. But this vet is new to us and, so far, thinks that I am a somewhat sane pet owner. I’d like to keep it that way for at least a few more visits.
Of course, when I explained all of this to my husband, Cap’n Firepants, and showed him the bill for this consultation, he looked at me as though I had just grown a butt on my head and stuck a yellow tulip in the crack.
I am torn between being jealous of Wonderbutt for having a valid medical excuse for surgically shaping his butt and being sorry for him because we have no money in the household budget for a bulldog butt-sculpting operation. The less expensive alternative, which is for me to regularly clean the pocket and try to squeeze some poofs of some kind of magical powder into it, is sure to make both of us miserable.
So, for now, the daily scene in our household will be Wonderbutt running away from his butt and the woman who is trying to catch his butt so she can make it less threatening.
Perhaps the exercise will do both our butts some good.