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October’s Dead Rubber Post

Somehow I missed posting one of these in September.  So, I think that means I can post two this month.  Since I make up the rules, who’s going to stop me?

“Dead Rubber”, by the way, is slang for “boring”.  So, I hope you weren’t thinking this was going to be something else…

The Cap’n and I are in the middle of doing some more Home Improving. Coincidentally, we are also in the middle of debating whether or not we are actually Improving or Worsening.  I will let you be the judge (Keep in mind that these are not Before and After pics.  They are Before and Part of the Way Through pics.  Actually, now that I think about it, since the blue walls were the result of our first Home Improving when we moved in, then they are actually Part of the Way Through pics, too.  So, this series is, “Part of the Way Through and We’re Never Going to Be Finished Because We Keep Changing Our Minds” pics):

The way the walls have looked for 3 years – Photo 1.


The way the walls have looked for three years – Photo 2. Except for the drywall patch; that’s where our 70’s looking intercom system used to be.


The way the walls look now – Photo 1.


The way the walls look now – Photo 2.  (Still working on the drywall patch…)


We are still not done.  I’ll try to give you a panoramic view of the kitchen once we finish.  But that may be another 10 years or so…






August’s Dead Rubber Post

You can go here if you need an explanation for the whole “Dead Rubber” thing.

I cannot organize my thoughts because Wonderbutt is snoring beside me, and has passed very long and loud, toxic, gaseous clouds at least three times in the past 5 minutes.  His windiness trumps my wittiness right now, so I give up.

I will leave you with this disturbing image from the makeup store, Sephora.  Hello Kitty makeup?  Who exactly is the target audience here?

April’s Dead Rubber Post

Well, we all knew that it had to happen eventually.  Life caught up with me, and I ran out of time to create a hastily cleverly composed post for today.  So I am going to bore entertain you with a few pics of Wonderbutt as a puppy that I just found.

Wonderbutt with Cap'n Firepants. Note the pristine carpeting upon which they sit.


Probably his first time ever on grass.

Looking over at his big sister, Mrs. Pain in the Butt

Mrs. P.I.B. introduces Wonderbutt to Big Mean Kitty - soon to become his arch nemesis.

And Wonderbutt now (well, in February at about 17 months old):

He cracks us up when he sits with his back feet tucked in like that!

I’ll be back tomorrow with more finely crafted features from the Firepants Family!


March’s Dead Rubber Post – Numero Deuce

As promised (or threatened – depending on how you look at it) yesterday, I am extending my Dead Rubber Post for the month because this week is a particularly demanding one on the social events calendar.  Or, it could just be laziness.  I’ll let you be the judge.

Today’s post has a target audience of 11 people – the people who participated in my devious reversal of the fine blogger trend of assigning people increasingly odd questions to answer.  My response to this was to give people my answers, and to make you guess the question.  This obviously was a huge success based on the number of responses.

I could create an X-ray impenetrable fort out of all of the lead balloons I’ve been collecting in the last few weeks.

Anyway, I digest.  (Attempted pun related to my stomach issues of late.  Another lead balloon?)

Here are the response summaries from my Google Form with the answer I gave in bold on the top left, and the breakdown of what questions you guessed listed on the right:

Yes - my toilet paper is hung over and under. I really don't care either way.

I would love to retire (when I'm old enough; I'm not quite there yet!) and work on The Daily Show. I would work there for free if I could.

O.K. This wasn't fair, but I was trying to work within the questions originally given by J-Wo without giving an obvious answer. Worst chore ever (that I happen to do quite well, surprisingly) - cleaning toilets (Just call me Ring Master.)

I want to believe in ghosts. Totally. But I'm pretty much on the fence about it. Maybe leaning a little toward the side that's not haunted.

I would definitely perform the Jonas Snap at the circus. I am an awesome Jonas snapper. Learned it before the Jonas brothers were even born. Learned it before snapping was even invented. My best trick.


And the winner with the most correct answers questions – a whopping 3 – is Audrey.  Woohoo!  Thank you for playing.  Come again.

February’s Dead Rubber Post

Here we go.  Eight days in, and I have to use my monthly “pass” already.  Newbies to whatimeant2say, the title of this post means “boring.”  I don’t know if you will find today’s post boring or not, but I have not had time to whip up anything clever, so this is going to be my shortest Dead Rubber Post ever.  Which is probably one of the weirder phrases I’ve ever typed.  As an apology, I give you this gift:  head on over to this link, if you are a book lover.  The video is 15 minutes long, but absolutely stunning and moving.  Not funny.  If you want strangely funny, try this link (probably not around the kids).

Wonderbutt and Mrs. P.I.B. Inspect Dimples' Skateboard


January’s Dead Rubber Post

Well, I think that this is the longest I have lasted, People.  I tried to hold out for at least a week past the start of the month, and I have succeeded.  

For any newbies or highly forgetful readers, please allow me to explain.  I have a monthly “Dead Rubber” post, which is, basically, one into which I have put less effort than usual.  “Dead Rubber” is, apparently, slang for “boring.”  I forget my source for that little gem.  Maybe I made it up.  I am sure some of you can think of more colorful definitions, and you are welcome to them, as the entertainment is completely up to you today, I am afraid.

“No tag backs,” one of my students yelled as he tagged another at recess.

“No tag backs,” the next student yelled as he tagged the closest victim.

This went on for fifteen minutes.

I don’t know if this is regional or generational, but when I was a kid we had no such proclamations when we played tag.  It was just understood you couldn’t simply tap the person who had tapped you half a second before.

So, I asked, “Hey guys, why do you have to keep saying that?  Can’t it just be the rule you establish at the beginning of the game?  For example, ‘Hey everyone – during this game of tag, there will be no tagging of the person who just tagged you.’ ”

They looked at me open-mouthed.  Not the open-mouthed in awe kind of way.  The open-mouthed, what the heck is this crazy lady saying kind of way.  For some reason, my idea is not considered good.  In fact, it’s not even considered.  It’s immediately dismissed as another wildly impossible request from their somewhat unbalanced teacher, and everything is back to normal the next recess.

During which I start thinking about the implications of a generation of “No Tag Backs” kids growing into adulthood and attempting to lead our nation some day in the future.  What if we could just invade a country and say, “Sorry, no tag backs.  You’ll just have to find someone else to pillage and plunder instead.”

And, if someone attacks us, and forgets to say those three vital words, we can pummel the heck out them, and then yell, “No tag backs!” as we retreat.

By the way, Infinity No Tag Backs to anyone who wants to try this game with me.  Now I’m covered.  I can strike with no fear of retaliation.  I should run for President.

courtesy of silverrrose at

October’s Dead Rubber Post by the B even O’er F

Well, as I established in my first Dead Rubber (slang for “boring”) post, I intend to monthly allow myself one post that has very little point and reflects even less thought than usual.  It seems so soon since my first Dead Rubber post, but it has been a month, and I am ready to cut myself some slack.

BOF means Boring Old Fart.  Which leads me to the topic of today’s post – my birthday.  Which is next week.  Yay me.

Believe it or not, I am actually looking forward to it this year.  I don’t remember feeling this excited about a birthday since I was dating Cap’n Firepants and obsessing over getting an engagement ring every time there was a gift-giving occasion.  You know you’ve got it bad when you wake up on Groundhog Day wondering if your sweetheart will find a way to eke some romance out of Puxatawney Phil seeing his shadow.

Last year, I really didn’t care about my birthday.  It was on a week day. I had a million things to do at school and places to chauffeur Dimples after work, so there was nothing special about the day as far as I was concerned.  I did not loathe the day or anything.  I was pretty much lackadaisical (love that word – hope it’s one of the ones in the Adult Spelling Bee in December) about the whole event.  Grateful to have lived another year, of course.  But didn’t see any reason to make a big deal out of it.

For some reason, my attitude has changed this year.  Maybe it’s because I have this “it’s all about me” blog and I am starting to enjoy a little extra attention (although Wonderbutt is the actual star).  Perhaps it’s because I now have Wonderbutt, who happens to share my same birth month, who makes me laugh while I cry every day.

But, I think that it more than likely has to do that they are announcing a new iPhone next week, and I am wa-a-a-a-ay overdue for an upgrade.

Yeah, so in my post, The Curable Romantic, I kind of mentioned that gadgets are the best way to my heart these days.  And, fortunately, Cap’n Firepants is well aware of this.    He has already verified with me that I am interested in the iPhone Nimbus 2000 or whatever they are going to call it.  And I think he has been quite impressed that I haven’t dropped my current iPhone in the river, as I did with my last, non-smart, mentally deficient phone.

So, I think there is a good chance that iPhone >4 will be my birthday “surprise”, although I won’t be able to hold it in my hands on my actual birthday.

I am excited.  Who cares if I am getting old and wrinkly?  As long as Apple keeps finding more ways to take my money every six months and Wonderbutt has more wrinkles than I do, I can deal with it.

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