Category Archives: Humor

Spoiler Alert: One of These MIGHT Be Your Christmas Gift This Year

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?

Star Wars Sunshade

picture from Amazon.com

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?

picture from: http://www.thinkgeek.com/stuff/41/snuznluz.shtml?cpg=cj&ref=&CJURL=&CJID=2617611

picture from: www.outblush.com

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?

picture from:  http://www.amazon.com/Accoutrements-11742-Freuds-Therapy-Ball/dp/B000R820QC/ref=pd_sim_hi_3

picture from: http://www.amazon.com

 

 

 

 

I Think We Might Flunk this Test

Panic

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?

If Jeff Bezos was in Charge of the Affordable Health Care Website…

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.

amazon_gift_card

Please Fix Your Website So I Can Sign My Dog Up for Affordable Health Care.

Do you see a tail?  What happened to my tail?

Do you see a tail? What happened to my tail?

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.

iGiveUp

Lately, I have been the unfortunate target of Well-Meaning People.

One of my students begged to help me after school every day for two weeks.  Once he got all of his late work turned in, I finally accepted his offer.  I needed to update a bunch of iPads, and his help was greatly appreciated.

You can see where this is going, right?

I’ll spare you the excruciating story.  And I will tell you that iPads with cracked screens work surprisingly well – until someone complains about getting glass on her fingertips every time she swipes.  Picky, picky.

Interestingly enough, the next incident also involved iTechnology.  In this second story, my daughter is the well-meaning person.  I’m not sure she was directing her well-meaning toward me or herself, but I guess that is not the point.  Yesterday afternoon, she suddenly felt the extreme urge to clean something out.  Instead of applying this new desire for minimalism to her closet or dresser drawers, she decided that she was going to clean out the Contacts on her iPod Touch.

“I got rid of all the people I don’t know,” she told me proudly.

It took a minute for me to recall that our devices are actually registered to the same account.  And that the reason she had people she didn’t know under her Contacts was because I had added them to my Contacts at some point.  And that the same Cloud that divvies out all of these names and numbers and addresses to all of my various pieces of technology just got a whole lot lighter when my daughter dumped all of the people who mean absolutely nothing to her, completely oblivious to the fact that they were there in the first place because they meant something to me.

And that. was. not. a. good. thing.

So, now, I can FaceTime whenever I like with the girl who sits next to her on the bus.

But I can’t call the doctor whose name I could never remember, which resulted in him being filed under “Stomach Guy.”

I hope the bus girl doesn’t charge for phone consultations about bloating and colonoscopies.

keep-or-delete-icloud-contacts

What’s Not to Love?

Sometimes I forget that not everyone is as enamored with fat gassy bulldogs with an underbite as I am.  Wonderbutt was hanging out on the Starbucks patio with Cap’n Firepants and me the other night, and getting lots of lovin’ from passersby.  But then a tall, burly guy rounded the corner with his latte and stopped short when he saw Wonderbutt.  He glared at me and backed away slowly to find a seat somewhere else.  I know I can be pretty intimidating, but I can’t help but feel that Wonderbutt had something to do with the man’s quick retreat.

Wonderbutt at Starbucks

Wonderbutt hanging out with Cap’n Firepants. Maybe the Cap’n scared the guy off…

What’s the Rush?

In previous posts about my dorfenbergerthalamus, I have mentioned that I have full-blown panic attacks if I am not early for an event.  I’m a bit more lackadaisical about other types of deadlines for some reason.  And if there is no deadline at all, well…

It doesn’t help that my procrastination consistently gets rewarded.  For example, when people submit things that they would like to post to one of the websites I manage, it’s inevitable that they will make revisions two or three times.  So, why post it immediately?  Instead, I use what I like to think of as the Microwave Popcorn Approach.  Don’t open the door until there’s at least 3 seconds between pops.  In life this translates to: don’t take action until people calm down and move on to the next emergency.

Or unless you smell smoke.  Then you should probably move your butt pretty fast.

So, when Toyota sent me a recall notice, I set it aside and made a mental note to take the car in if I smelled smoke.  Which I would probably have done without the recall notice anyway.

Then I got a couple more notices.  The popcorn kept on popping.

Then I didn’t hear anything.

Recently, I noticed the Toyota recall notice at the bottom of a stack of paperwork that includes orders to get a mammogram from two years ago.

“Hmm.  Let’s see.  Spend Thanksgiving holiday getting my breasts smushed or hanging out in the lounge at Toyota?” I thought to myself.  Pretty much anything wins over smushed breasts.

Then I got the next recall notice.  Recalling the correction of their recall.  Basically, whatever they did to fix the problem for all the poor suckers who dutifully raced in there after the first notice did not work. So now those conscientious people get to bring their vehicles back in.  Not yet, though.  We will all be informed when the correction of the correction is ready to be implemented.

And yes, I am well aware of the fact that my glee over these circumstances dooms me to losing my carburetor on the highway while I’m going 65 mph and singing “Roar” at the top of my lungs.

Nevertheless, I feel procrastination has won out once again.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make a quick dash to the kitchen to see if I can put a stop to that annoying, high-pitched sound.  I guess my popcorn is finally done.

Forget the Milk. It Does a Number on My Sensitive Stomach.

oreo1

 

 

oreo2

In honor of See What Dangerous Items Your Dog Can Eat Without Needing to Be Taken to the Emergency Vet Clinic Month*, Wonderbutt has been making great strides in his clinical research.

The other night we discovered his “pad” looking like it had been invaded by a homeless (note the newspaper section) junkie afflicted with the munchies.

No one could attest to how many oreos had been in the package when it was left on the counter, and no one could figure out how Wonderbutt could get to the package on the counter, which is ten feet higher than the top of his head.

Dimples and I had noticed that evening that Wonderbutt seemed gassier than usual.  He was kind enough to emphasize this by sitting between us with his bottom aimed at our faces and releasing a not-so-silent-but-just-as-deadly sample for us to sniff.

By the time we discovered the probable cause for his unstable stomach, it seemed ridiculous to call the vet to inquire about possible chocolate poisoning when we  would be forced to declare excessive stinkiness as his only symptom.

In a related story, I was informed by my sister, Crash, that her dog had chosen the same day to ingest a Harry Potter DVD and portions of some scrapbooks.  It’s obvious Wonderbutt texted orders to his cousin to get cracking on her contribution to this month’s research project or else be in danger of losing all funding.

I can’t wait until this month is over.

oreo3

 

* October is National Bullying Prevention Month, National Breast Cancer Awareness Month (We don’t want to prevent Breast Cancer – just be aware of it this month, I guess), Clergy Appreciation Month, and Sarcastic Month.  That’s just a sampling.  Here’s more if you are really curious.  There is apparently no one in charge of Month Declaring, so people can just willy nilly announce that any month is special for whatever reason.  I officially declare November to be Worldwide Cut-Out-Trying-to-Monopolize-the-Calendar Month.

Momma Didn’t Raise No Pencil Pusher

We were home about 5 minutes tonight when I heard the unmistakable sound of Wonderbutt chewing on something illegal.

We were home about 5 minutes tonight when I heard the unmistakable sound of Wonderbutt chewing on something that was splintering way too fast.  I grabbed my phone and caught him in the act.

 

pencil1

So, what do you think he was trying to tell me with this act of rebellion?

A.  How is this different from my dog food? They both taste like sawdust.

2.  I hate people who spend time writing their blog instead of paying attention to me.

III.  I may not be the sharpest pencil in the box but that doesn’t really matter now, does it?

Four.  I’m going to make this #2 live up to its name.

Good Morning. This Day is Going to Suck.

“Umm.  Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?”

This is never a good way to start the day.  If anyone ever has the bright idea of inventing an alarm clock with this spine-tingling statement as its wake up call, rest assured that you will never rest assured again.

However, I will kiss the person who invents an alarm clock that intuitively sets itself when you fall into bed late at night or screams like a banshee when you make any attempt to shut it off in your sleep.

The middle of my day was actually not that bad considering how it started. Surprisingly.

But, apparently my Libran consciousness cannot abide by imbalance.  So, I decided to end the day just as spectacularly as I began it by spilling a venti mocha all over the table at Starbucks.  The table on which my iPad and iPhone both rested.

Don’t worry, though. I have my priorities.  I snatched both devices out of the chocolate ocean and yelled for life-saving equipment.  (Paper towels)  I had to yell because not one of the other customers leapt to my aid which, sadly, has been my consistent experience with witnesses to every single one of my life-long string of disasters.

I think the electronics may have miraculously survived.  My iPad case and my dry-clean only skirt did not fare so well, unfortunately.

To some people, this set of unfortunate occurrences might appear to be minor inconveniences.  To me, they are clearly a message.

My husband is one lucky guy.

Who else gets to start his morning with a crazed woman leaping out of bed spouting expletives and end his day with that lovely lady returning home to repeat the same eloquent speech?

I just hope he appreciates his good fortune.

 

 

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