Month: May 2013

There’s Some Scary Stuff on the Internet

ME Overly simple thoughts , ,

Sorry, everyone. Just… sorry. I got up really early today to get a lot of work done, and while I was working at my computer, I felt our little dog lay down at my feet and brush her silky long ears against my toes. All was right with the world. And then I remembered that the dog was actually downstairs in the guest room with the kids, since they all had a big sleepover and watched movies all night. By the time I realized that the five minutes or so of soft toe-tickling was being done by a giant wood roach running back and forth across my bare feet, I pretty much lost it. I sprayed my entire office with Raid.

But then had to keep working. I’m pretty sure I’ve either now been repeatedly licking envelopes, or I’ve lost my taste buds. And I keep seeing midgets dance in the corner.

All of that is to explain why I felt the need to share these pants with you. Seriously, this is probably one of those images you really never should have stumbled across, and coupled with the horribly inappropriate footwear, it’s best to just click off this now. But here it is, in all of its droopy britches glory. I think the purpose of these pants is to shield the world from the fact that you’re wearing Depends, and that you’ve been wearing them for about twelve hours too long. It’s possible you’re supposed to carry things in there, like a kangaroo pouch, but wouldn’t you think they’d have a woman model them? Since the boy kangaroos don’t have pouches?

pants

UPDATE: I just had to Google “do boy kangaroos have pouches?” and I’m sad to say that not only are there some very mixed views on the subject, but there were also some very disturbing images of men in kangaroo outfits carrying other men in their pouches. Run. Run away. NOW, before I inhale some more household chemicals and decide to share those pictures.

My Future Self is Kind of a Snot

ME Overly simple thoughts , , ,

Thanks to either a wormhole in the space-time continuum or an abundance of black Toyotas in my town, I keep seeing myself driving places. It’s really eerie, then it becomes cool when you overthink it.

Every once in a while, I’ll see someone driving off in my car. My instinct is to chase them down while calling the police, but the only problem is when I think I see these people driving off in my car, I’m actually driving my car at the time. It’s a very unsettling, Dr. Who-ey feeling.

My twelve-year-old and I decided that the only logical explanation (and the only way to avoid looking like a total dipshidiot when you scream, “Stop! That guy stole my car!” from inside your own vehicle) is that the people driving off in our car are actually…(prepare yourself for this)…us.

Yes, my friends, thanks to my ability to time travel from the future, I have managed to see myself from the future and let me tell you, the future is looking pretty good. Apparently, I’m blonde in the future, and really skinny. I’m also a man. But we don’t have to talk about that.

I am a little bit upset that in the future I’ve become a total bitch who cuts people off in traffic, and I don’t wave. On one hapless time-line-bumping-into, I actually watched myself honk at an elderly person who was crossing the street. I pretended not to know myself at that moment, and refused to make eye contact to let myself know that I do not approve of my behavior.

On the plus side, future me listens to some rockin’ tunes while driving around in my car, and I also have a really outdoorsy-looking kayak carrier on top of my car. Either I plan to take up kayaking, or I’m a hopeless granola poser.

The most important thing I can do now is be sure not to accidentally get in a car wreck with my future self. That would be both awkward and possibly alarming, for everyone involved. And I’m pretty sure the consequences would wipe out several major species in the future. I’m already a snotty car thief, I don’t need animal killer hanging over my head, too.

 

Happy Something Crawled Out of Your Vagina Day

ME Overly simple thoughts , , ,

Face it, you know I’m right. When you really get down to the definition, the only reason I woke up to a torn Target sack containing a Yonana frozen banana smasher this morning is because not-one-but-two real-live humans clawed their way out of my lady garden. Call me cynical, but we’ve always known Mother’s Day is a made-up holiday intended to sell stuff. Mostly cards and flowers. And now, thanks to kitchen appliance technology, crap-ton car loads of bananas.

You might already be wondering how my husband is faring after presenting me with a kitchen appliance for Mother’s Day, but I immediately realized that if its blades are tough enough to turn frozen bananas into something the has the texture of ice cream, this little gadget might be handy in getting rid of the body. It’s a keeper.

Speaking of keepers, book mark this video and watch it later with your girlfriends while drinking stupid amounts of margaritas.

Let The Games Begin…

ME Overly simple thoughts , , , ,

If you follow this blog, and especially if you follow my other blog, you probably know by now that things aren’t going so well with my daughter’s school. Her school system was able to cure her of her autism, so she doesn’t need special ed services next year. Now, we’re not talking “a little bit autistic” or “somewhere on the spectrum.” We’re talking about a child who has had a full-time aide by her side for five years, who has had several bathroom accidents this year, who can’t tie her shoes even though she’s going into middle school next year, and who has been picked up by the police alongside a major highway after an elopement episode. But the awesomeness that is public education was able to fix all of that. She’s cured. And will have her services slashed when she goes to the middle school next year.

Now, if you’ve been following this blog, you also know that I am one little blue pill away from going absolutely ape shit on someone. Mostly just for fun.

So after yesterday’s horrible IEP meeting where we once again did not come to an agreement on what the school should do for my daughter, I show up on campus this morning and this has happened:

BJTGDywCQAAvyBx.jpg large

Yes, that is my car. And yes, those are orange traffic cones that were placed there to keep me from driving onto campus to take my daughter to her classroom. For well over a year I’ve been told to park behind the school and walk my daughter to her classroom because her aide has cafeteria duty in the morning. But after yesterday’s meeting, I’m being blocked from parking by four rubber tubes that a vice principal snuck out there and deposited in the road.

I did the mature thing. I took a picture of it and texted it to the school board person over special ed, and then explained that this smelled a lot like retaliation. They disagree. The school just felt that child safety was at stake, and they had to take action.

Let the games begin…

#CTTW: You Changed the World a Little Bit

ME Overly simple thoughts , , , , ,

This is another one of those rare posts that isn’t supposed to be funny (as opposed to my posts that happen to not be funny because I’m just not that good a writer). You would think this one would be a hoot since yesterday I went to the dentist to have a crown put on and I totally misunderstood the whole process. It does not, in fact, result in me being named the Queen of anything. In fact, it resulted in the dentist breaking the tooth he was trying to fix and then having to pull the mother fucker out of my head in four different pieces.

You would also think this post would be funny because I’m now on really good drugs (see story above). Sadly, if I’m this bizarre when I’m supposedly sober, I should be awesome while high. I’m not. Instead, I make tree sloths look like steroid-abusing Olympic athletes.

But here is the serious post: you changed the world a little bit. You, my good internet people, answered the call and filled in the gaps. When I was given twenty copies of Fahrenheit 451 to give to my students for World Book Night, all of you took to the internet and sent gift cards for me to buy extra copies for the remaining students. I not only ended up with enough to give to every student, there are about five leftover copies on my desk that I give to new students coming in.

One student was actually in the facility with me last year and remembered being given last year’s book, The Book Thief. He said it was the only book he’d read at the time, but that he’s read “way more’n dat” since then. His face lit up when I handed him this year’s book.

Other students told me a much more heart-wrenching tale. Several told me that they read it one time just because I was nice enough to give it to them, and that it was good enough that they had to read it again. MANY students told me a different story:

“If all those people on the internet bought this book for me, the least I could do is read it for them.”

You. You did that. And I’m clapping for you right now.