Month: March 2012

Raping and Pillaging Are Not Résumé Skills

ME Overly simple thoughts , , ,

Actual conversation with my autistic child that sucked five minutes of my life out of my body and ate a small piece of my soul.

DAUGHTER: I want to be a Viking when I grow up.

ME: That’s…um… really, really cool!

DAUGHTER: I have to wear a helmet.

ME: Well of course you do! What kind of Viking goes around hitting her head on stuff and getting knocked out because she forgot her helmet? Sheesh!

DAUGHTER: And I have to sing sea shanties.

ME: I think that’s a pirate. You would have to be a pirate to do that.

DAUGHTER: I will sing Viking songs instead.

ME: There you go. Good old fashioned “It’s great to be a Viking” songs.

DAUGHTER: And I need a boat with lots of rowers.

ME: Me too, pumpkin.

DAUGHTER: And I have to kill your whole village and take all your sheep.

ME: Huh?

DAUGHTER: The streets will flow with the blood of our victims.

ME: I’m sorry, what?

DAUGHTER: That’s what Vikings have to say.

ME: No, no, Vikings can say things like, “Here, we have extra sheep in our village that we’re not using, why don’t you take some of ours?”

DAUGHTER: No. The Vikings have to say, “You have to give me all your crops.”

ME: Or…OR…you could be the other kind of Vikings. The ones who got tired of pillaging and therefore immigrated to Minnesota. They still get to wear the helmet, but they pay their taxes instead of stealing sheep. They also go to college and become accountants and stuff like that.

DAUGHTER: Do they still carry their swords and wear their helmets?

ME: Only on casual Fridays.

DAUGHTER: Do they get to steal anything?

ME: It depends on what kind of accountant they are.

DAUGHTER: Do people cower in fear when hordes of Minnesota Vikings come into their cities and villages?

ME: (God forgive me) All the time! They even have these giant arenas where the Vikings take on the weaker underlings just for fun and crowds of people spend a whole Sunday afternoon just to watch.

DAUGHTER: Okay.

I now rue the day I convinced my daughter she couldn’t be a mouse when she grows up.

Horses, Dead People, and Smelly Nerds…Oh My!

ME Overly simple thoughts , , ,
Sure, they look harmless. They're actually Googling "how to meet a sexy MILF for fun and profit."

I’m not really sure why I write this blog, but I am fairly certain that if I didn’t write this blog and these stupid thoughts didn’t get out of my head, I would hurt something in a monumental way, and maybe even hurt a monument in a monumental way. I could easily break something off of Mt. Rushmore if I didn’t write, so by you reading this crap you are actually helping to preserve our American heritage. And by my giving you something to write about so you can read it and save history, I’m really enabling you to be a hero. You’re welcome.

And since I really do want to help you save America by reading my blog, I did some research into what hoop-jumping steps people are willing to go through in order to find this site. Research might be a strong word, it’s more like I clicked on the Summary button on my dashboard. But I read the Summary. That’s important, right?

I probably shouldn’t have looked up the Summary because as it turns out, an alarming number of people found my blog by Googling “smelly nerds.” I don’t ever remember writing about geeks with body odor, and I’m sure if I had written about that Klout would have instantly made me influential about body odor, but more than 250 people searched for smelly nerds on the internet and found my blog. I’m both curious and scared that so many people were even looking for smelly nerds and apparently they want to hook up with smelly nerds that they meet online. Leave me out of it, guys.

Other top searches included horse (108 hits), horse run, horses eating grass, eating a horse, and an unrelated search, raping a cow. I do specifically remember blogging about eating a horse, but the rest of that stuff is Greek to me. There were a lot of searches for condoms that brought people to the fun that is my brain, as well as a lot of zombie searches and crotch shot detectives.

I would like to say to the no-doubt saintly woman who had to Google “my husband pees on stuff,” I hope the search brought her to my blog post about the cool ways to kill my husband.

Now that I know what my reading audience likes to hear about, do expect a lot more blog posts about horses and body odor and possibly a combination post or two about horse body odor. My vivid descriptions of the smell coming off of zombie horse crotches could very well save the Statue of Liberty.

I’m Taking Out a Mob Hit on The Lorax

ME Overly simple thoughts , , , ,

WARNING: The following blog post has been brought to you by mixing Nyquil with large amounts of liquor.

I don’t give a rat’s ass how brilliant Dr. Seuss was. Yeah, yeah, yeah, he was an amazing writer who inspired countless millions of children to want to read and blah-di-fuckety-blah. All I know is some stupid book comes out about how this Onceler shithead chopped down all the Truffula trees and The Lorax tried to speak for the trees and then those bears in their pajamas had to move away and take the ducks and the fish with them, then it’s up to this kid who probably steals money from his mom’s wallet to buy weed and he has to replant the entire world with trees. Thus ends my book report on The Lorax.

Somebody who probably loved that book as much as I used to saw a random real-life tree and thought to himself (it was definitely a man who did this to us), “Hey! That white fluffy tree looks exactly like those Truffula trees from that wonderful Dr. Seuss book! Who cares if they smell like whale semen? We should plant them EVERYWHERE! And I mean, EVERYWHERE!”

And now I’m surrounded by these stupid fluffy trees called Bradford Pears and they’re all trying to kill me at the same time. I am so allergic to those trees that they should be illegal. And they don’t even produce pears. And I’m sure the guy they’re named after was an asshole.

LOOK at all that pollen! Do you see what he's doing to us???

I know, it’s kind of sad how worked up I can get over a member of the plant kingdom, but the trees really are trying to kill me. My eyes water so badly that my contact lenses slide right out and run down my cheeks. I’m producing more snot than an entire kindergarten class. I’m coughing and sneezing and during those magical moments when I happen to cough and sneeze at the same time, I also end up peeing myself. If I knew where The Lorax lived I would cut him.

To make matters worse, there’s no medical treatment for being this allergic to something and that only makes me want to punch the lady from the Claritin commercials for being Claritin-clear. The only thing that halfway brings any relief is drinking Nyquil straight from the bottle and washing it down with undiluted Jack Daniels. The store didn’t have any cherry Nyquil, so I had to get the antifreeze-flavored Nyquil instead. It’s all kind of put me in a mood, if you couldn’t already tell. I’ll feel better when the little flowers fall off the trees or once that Lorax opens the package I mailed him.

The Spite Baby

ME Overly simple thoughts , , ,

This kid is just scary looking. And expensive looking. There's no way she has 20/20 vision with those eyes.

I try really hard not to discuss politics on this blog because I simply don’t know what I’m talking about. I try to also leave religion out of it, too, but that’s just because I know full-well that my religion is better than your religion, so there’s no need to brag about how awesome my religion is because that would be just rubbing it in your face. (By the way, I’m Catholic. The un-Rick Santorum kind.)

But sometimes there’s something going on in politics that is both so angering that I have to think about it and so confusing that I at least have to read what the internet had to say about it. Apparently, and I could be confused by the facts on this one, we don’t have enough babies in America.

I realize China has grown into a super-human country where they have so many people the borders literally can’t hold them all, and I don’t actually think the government is trying to compete by making our citizens have as many babies as they have in China, but something’s not adding up. Our government is arguing over whether or not my health insurance has to cover birth control, but I don’t think everybody’s thought this through.

Has anyone done the math on a few years’ worth of birth control versus providing health insurance for a baby from its pre-pop-out days all the way through its college graduation? I don’t think they have, so if the government makes me have a baby I’m going to make sure that I give birth to the anti-Christ, just for the fun of it.

I don’t mean that I’m going to be neglectful or teach the child cruelty. I mean, it is actually going to BE Rosemary’s Baby. I don’t really know how I’m going to bring that to pass just yet, but if anyone can give birth to a medically evil human being, I can.

More importantly, this baby is going to be the most expensive child my health insurance company has ever met. It will have every three month check-up. I will take it to the emergency room for every sniffle and fever higher than 98 degrees. I will have it tested for every disease and medical condition known to medical science. I’ll have it tested for diseases that don’t even exist in this country, and a few diseases that only occur in animals. The child will have orthodontia, glasses, and corrective shoes (I realize that will make my child a target for bullying at school, but he’ll be okay once he figures out that he’s the anti-Christ.). I will buy the prescription-only children’s vitamins instead of Flintstones. Did you know you can even get a prescription for WATER? Yes, my child will drink only the Rx water and the doctor who wrote the prescription and the pharmacy who sold it to me will all send their bills to my health insurance provider.

It would be a whole lot cheaper if the health insurance providers just shut up and covered my documented medical condition: hyperfertility, or the ability to get pregnant while doing normal activity (well, okay, normal grown up activity…and define “normal.”). The providers should be required to cover the treatment because it’s a really real medical condition. After all, you just read about it on the internet.

You Have No Idea How Much I Want a Jet Pack

ME Overly simple thoughts , , ,

There's an 71% chance that this won't end well.

I know what you’re thinking, you don’t have to say it. You’re thinking about the awesomeness that would be me if I had a jet pack. You’re already envisioning me expertly zooming around and then coming to hover in front of you to hand you that piece of paper your dropped, then zooming off again. I make it look so easy.

But this is me we’re talking about. If somehow this was the future and I was actually wearing a real-live jet pack and then by some strange chance the thing actually worked, flames would shoot out of it and I would end up setting my own ass on fire. The jet pack would go haywire and I would fly haphazardly into stuff, slamming my head off of every surface in the room while the smell of bacon coming from my singed ass flesh made every dog on the block go nuts at the same time (They’ll still have dogs in the future. And bacon). The high rate of speed the jet pack caused me to take would only make the flames worse, fanning the ass flames until I was pretty much just a burned up charcoal briquette.

And you actually think I should have one of these things? You’re sick in the head.

What is actually very cool and very safe for me to use is the leaf blower. I had a lot of fun with that today. It’s a lot like a jet pack, if you’re a leaf and you want to get somewhere by having someone aim the jet at you and blow you in the direction you want to go. I had to use the leaf blower because I was specifically told not to use the leaf blower. But it was my husband who told me not to, so not only does that not count but it’s actually like a command from the Universe to go ahead and do it.

I was really afraid that this would turn into a YouTube video if my neighbors happened to be outside with their camera phones handy and then there would be videos of me falling backwards from the power of the leaf blower. No such luck. I had braced myself for impact and everything. I did, however, learn that rocks are not impervious to the power of the leaf blower. I aimed the leaf blower at the small pile of stuff I was trying to move after my brain powers didn’t get it all the first time and it sent decorative gravel from our flower bed flying in all directions. There’s even a few pieces embedded in the side of my car. If the leaf blower is powerful enough to fling gravel like that, it would stand to reason that I could turn it on its end, strap it to my back, and at least get a little nudge while walking if not actually be lifted off the ground and transported. And it won’t set my ass on fire for even a second.