Author: ME

Words With Enemies

ME Overly simple thoughts , , ,


Words with Friends is kind of like this popularity club where you not only get to see who likes you whenever they start a game with you, but then you get to prove how smart you are and pretend it was all just random chance because the Universe just gave you good letters.

My friend’s idiot husband whose name rhymes with Ned keeps starting up these games of WWF with me (Words, people, not pro wrestling) knowing full well that I’m both a certified English teacher and a bestselling author, so really, he only has himself to blame.

Ned’s Word: cry

My Word: wavery (didn’t he know Ws are worth, like, a million points?)

Ned’s Word: dad

My Word: adeptest (plus the bonus for using all my letters)

Ned’s Word: nor

My Word: hoax (on both a triple letter and a triple word score)

Ned’s Word: read

My Word: manhole (once again, score for using all my letters)

What is really sad is that Ned not only keeps coming back for more, but he uses the chat feature of the game to trash talk. He’ll rack up a whopping nineteen points with some four letter word that happens to fall on a double word score, then chat about how “in your face” he’s being with that word. He’s usually still trying to type that while I’m putting “pathogen” on a triple word score/two triple letter score combo.

The saddest part of the whole thing is how deadly serious this is to me. I am a word ninja on a mission to take out Ned and his entire family, like this “wipe his seed from the Earth” kind of hatred. This is like taking my oral comps for my Master’s degree all over again, like I can prove how really, really good with words I truly am and there’s some board of professors sitting to pass judgment on my next move. I have missed meals and neglected to bathe my children over this game. It’s the English teacher equivalent of a crack addiction. But luckily, I’m really, really good at it, or at least I am when I’m playing someone who can barely speak the language, let alone compete in it.

UPDATE: the absolute best thing ever just happened: I’m not only beating Ned, but I just replied to his chat by saying, “I’m blogging about how bad you suck at this game.” It’s like a win-win for the entire universe. Of me.

My Annual Dose of Sand in my Swimsuit

ME Overly simple thoughts , , , ,

I work in a jail. That could be where I developed my warped sense of humor, but every so often, even the inmates can’t stand my jokes anymore and they kick me out for a couple of months. I think the correct lingo is being “out on furlough.” Anyway, summer is when I get my travel fix. I’ve already shown you what kind of trouble I can get into on a roller coaster, and I’ll post the video I made for my friend’s fifteenth anniversary when I merely suggested that we all go zip lining, since wouldn’t it be a kick-ass level of poignant if you died on your anniversary from falling out of a giant tree?

Tomorrow, we head to the beach. Someone down there decided I sound really mentally together on the phone because they’re letting me rent a really big boat and take it out into the ocean. Watch your local news between Wednesday and Friday to see if it turns out badly. And for any asshats in the audience, no, that was not an invitation to break into my house between Wednesday and Friday.

So while I’m snorkeling and sunning myself and drinking tropical drinks and getting sand out of the crotch of my swimsuit whenever I think anyone isn’t looking, enjoy this video. And dear Fifteenth Anniversary Friend, I just made you world famous on my blog.

What’s Wrong With My Glitter?

ME Overly simple thoughts , , , , , ,

I love my fans. Technically, all my fans are just friends or relatives who know that I need lots of attention, but when I refer to them as fans I feel all important. My “fans” keep sending me funky emails and repinning crap they see on Pinterest so I can find it. I have one “fan” who even made a whole Pinterest board with my name on it where she pins all the stuff that will impress me, like a jar of floating glitter (except this one thing she pinned there for me was actually a jar of floating glitter and when I tried to do it I bought the underachieving kind of glitter that just sat there).

But my one fan Cyndy Drew Etler (who wrote an awesome book that I’m really jealous of but that’s okay, because she’s a great writer AND she’s my fan) actually went the extra mile to amuse me by getting out her camera while driving on the interstate and taking this picture:

Just because she knew I would love it. And because she knows I have to move to a state that starts with a V so I can have one of those, too.

What? I’ve Been Busy…

ME Overly simple thoughts , , ,

I know, I know, it’s been a while since I’ve posted. I’ve been horribly busy with things like cleaning out closets and planning a trip out of town. You know, that kind of all-about-me stuff that I like to do. It’s exhausting. So this will catch you up to speed.

It’s summer. That means it’s hot. It also means I’m boycotting the whole internet because all I see are blog posts, tweets, and Pinteresty things about how hot it is. Seriously? Where the hell have you been every other summer of your whole entire life? How in the world did this one summer get so hot and all the other ones were mere balmy memories? Do you not remember running through the sprinkler as a kid because it was HOT? Or standing in front of the open fridge until your mom screamed at you to shut the door because it was HOT in the house? You don’t remember turning a box fan around and putting it in the window trying to suck some of the heat out of your house because it was HOT? Hmmm. Must be just me.

In other news, I rigged an electric fence on my property to keep my dog inside the fence. It involves a lot of wire wrapped around our fence posts and several car batteries. It totally works. I think the dog can actually smell the electric current because she hasn’t left the porch since I put it up. I completely saw this idea on Pinterest.*

(*No, I didn’t. There are some things even Pinterest can’t help me do.)

I also figured out how to break wine bottles in strategic locations so they become vases, because nothing says, “I’m a classy gal,” like vases scattered around your home made out of discarded Boone’s Farm bottles. Again, saw it on Pinterest.*

(*Again, no I didn’t.)

I also found a website willing to rent me a boat for five hours as long as I sign a waiver that says I won’t use the boat to bring drugs or Cubans into the country. Since making sweeping claims about political refugees is wrong on so many levels, I assume they meant I promise not to bring Cuban CIGARS into the country, which I would never do anyway because smoking is bad for you. I rented a boat and plan to use it when I go to the beach. They didn’t specify WHEN the five hours starts, so I plan to make it start after I get to Florida.

Finally, today is my anniversary. Screw crystal or silver, because apparently fifteen years is the “two tickets to see the midnight showing of the last Batman movie and a whole bunch of wine” anniversary. My husband and I are celebrating fifteen years of not killing each other by going zip lining and rappelling this weekend, so if all goes according to plan I’ll be filling out my eHarmony profile on Saturday night. That was a joke that I saw on Pinterest*. (*see above)

Lorca’s Week in Review (One sammich short of a picnic)

ME Overly simple thoughts , , , , ,

This week was a complete and total clambake. I had a lot of fun with my kids, as evidenced by the YouTube video I posted of me tricking them into getting on a historic wooden roller coaster by telling them we were really in the line for the train ride. What? It was sort of a train. It had tracks and wheels.

We also went on this amazing four-story ropes course thing on the next mountain over from us and sadly, they wouldn’t let me take my camera. They said it was for my safety since I needed both hands to hold on to my rope, but I totally know it was because they were afraid of a lawsuit and just didn’t want me using my little camera as evidence.

I read a couple of books this week, and only one of them really sucked. The other one only mildly sucked, mostly because it was a book about ultra-religious strict Jews and it’s one of the Ten Commandments that you can’t not like a book about people who have suffered as much as the Jews. The book that really sucked was about rich people who vacation in their swanky summer homes on these quaint little islands off the coast of Maine and it’s practically preordained that you can hate those people because they very well may have had something to do with the plight of the Jews. They certainly don’t let Jews play golf at their country clubs in the crappy book, so I can say all kinds of ugly stuff about it.

On my autism blog, I explained why holidays like the Fourth of July really suck for autistic people. SUDDENLY it’s okay to set stuff on fire???

On these other blogs I read (mostly during time when I probably should be cooking a meal or swabbing Neosporin on someone), I found this great stuff:

Eating My Yard – about this total overachiever who actually cooks things

Toronto Pride – My friend with the panties on her website posted a whole bunch of pictures from the Toronto Pride parade. I could be wrong, but I THINK it either has to do with being proud of being gay or being proud of being from Toronto. The jury’s still out.

Dr. Jekyll and PMS – This writer tackles the ever unpopular male version of PMS. Or Mad Cow Disease. Whichever.

Tomorrow is a momentous day in our household: it’s the day we force our oldest child to join the cross country team. She’s already looking for a new home, preferably one with lots of fried foods and an aversion to any activity more strenuous than opening your own can of soda. Sadly, both of her parents are Ironman 70.3 finishers and one of us (yeah, it’s totally me) is a Boston Marathon qualifier. I’m kind of floored that she somehow thought she was NOT going to participate in school sports. Go figure.

It’s Not Really Lying If They’re Dumb Enough To Believe You

ME Overly simple thoughts , , , , ,

This isn’t really a post, but it is a video of me taking my kids and some friends to this awesome amusement park, then telling the kids that this line wasn’t for the roller coaster but that it was actually for the kiddie train ride around the park. That’ll teach those little snots about rolling their eyes when I want to ride the kiddie train.

Have a great weekend!

I’m Having Sex with My Hungarian Boyfriend

ME Overly simple thoughts , , , ,
This is either Peggy from the credit card commercials, or a phone sex operator.

It never fails. I’m doing something ordinary, nay, completely mindboggingly mundane, and my husband approaches to ask the most dumb-assed of questions: “Whatcha doin?”

It doesn’t matter that my activity at the moment should be fairly self-explanatory, since he likes to ask this question while standing outside the shower door or while I’m elbow-deep in dish suds at the kitchen sink. It’s sad that my husband has lived forty years without realizing people shower or wash dishes. It’s actually quite alarming that he asks me this same question from just outside the bathroom door, like I’d be sitting on the toilet enjoying a Ruben sandwich instead of relieving myself.

I’ve learned to counteract his stupid question with my own equally stupid response. Every time he asks me that question, I’ve learned to answer, “I’m having sex with my Hungarian boyfriend.” This has only backfired one time, but it was epic.

Since I work from my home office, we have a family rule: when Mommy has her headset on, you can’t talk to her because she’s on a business call. But when Offspring the First recently violated the don’t talk rule to ask me, “Whatcha doin’?” both she and the CEO of a Big Six publishing company heard me automatically reply, “I’m having sex with my Hungarian boyfriend!”

The bad news is I had to have the facts of life discussion with my daughter a little sooner than I’d originally planned since I had to explain what sex was. And what Hungarian was. The good news is I have now have a six-book deal with a major publisher to write nasty erotica.

Lorca’s Week in Review (Way less annoying than going to the dentist)

ME Overly simple thoughts , , , ,


This week marked the beginning of summer vacation for me (yes, if you can believe it, a state government somewhere actually decided I should teach impressionable children!), and I didn’t waste it. I tried out TONS of shit that I saw on Pinterest, not the least of which included burning my house down and blowing up a bar of Ivory soap in my microwave. I also tried to make a doormat out of all the wine corks I’ve been saving in the kitchen drawer, which only made me realize that I DRINK A LOT because it ended up becoming a living room rug.

On my Autism blog, I posted the world’s cutest video of my kid jumping up and down with the neighbor kid. If your kid isn’t autistic, that’s probably not a big deal to you, but if your kid IS autistic you realize this is bigger than the Nobel Prize. By the way, I don’t like how Nobel Prize is spelled. I want it spelled Noble. Because you should have to be noble to get it. Obviously, I’m not in charge of these things.

On my friends’ blogs, I found all of this stuff:

Please Don’t Piss Off The Chef

This friend of mine has an erotica blog with pictures of panties on it!

Apparently, a blow job CAN go on for too long…

These two people who aren’t married to each other still sit around and argue about stuff…

In book news, I read a super awesome book that is made even more awesomer by the fact that I got to read it and you didn’t because it’s not even published yet, but whenever Simon&Schuster gets around to publishing Trickster’s Point you should all run out and buy it. And this fantastical writer named Cyndy Drew Etler not only had her awesomesauce book published this week, but I GOT TO WRITE A BLURB ON THE BACK so you know it has to be cool. Or flammable. Probably flammable.

I spent a crazy amount of my first week of vacation sucked into the void of Pinterest, so here is some of the great stuff I totally stole from other Pinners:

Because It’s Funny

And for those of you keeping up with my Tweets, my dog’s tail is not broken. I know you’ve been pacing anxiously in the waiting room for that update.

Those Jerks at Pinterest Burned My House Down

ME Overly simple thoughts , , , ,

No, really. They did. Here’s how it went down:

I saw this really cute idea on Pinterest that I thought might help us bond more as a family instead of waving at each other in the hallways of our house. The photo very clearly showed that this item was not going to get hot.

terra-cotta-marshmallow-roaster-pinterest

“But wait, Lorca,” you say, “aren’t you a science teacher? Didn’t you know that putting flaming charcoal briquettes in a terra cotta container would make the whole thing get hot?”

Shut up. You’re not the boss of me. And besides, I think that’s chemistry or something. I majored in biology. If you put flaming charcoal briquettes in a frog, I would totally be able to predict what would happen.

terra-cotta-marshmallow-roaster-fail-after

So there we were, having a family moment. Well, three of us were. My husband is afraid of bugs and he refused to come outside, even while I was roasting marshmallows in this handy dandy container and teaching them the words to “Cat’s in the Cradle.” We had a blast. Until this happened.

The best part of my husband’s stupid bug phobia is he still doesn’t know there’s a charred hole in our house. I paid a lot of money yesterday to have a little bit of wood delivered and I’m going to make this whole outdoor kid’s play thing that will cover up the hole. More family bonding, I get rid of the evidence, and then I’ll have something to post on Pinterest to sucker some other unsuspecting do-it-yourselfer into destroying her home. Win.

There Has Never Been a Better Time to Not Work at McDonald’s

ME Overly simple thoughts , , , , ,

A job in the fast food industry is almost a rite of passage, a time period in the life of any high school student that shapes who he is because it makes him realize that yes, Virginia, he really does want to go to college. He learns to reheat food that was flash frozen, placed on a truck, thawed out, dunked in boiling grease, slapped under a heat lamp for a few hours, then redunked in the oil to give it one last go as a source of nutrition for some schmuck in a hurry. He learns that the new guy cleans the toilets, and he hopefully learned to read that sign hanging in there about employees washing their hands before returning to work. He learns all about how the corporate world sucks the life out of the little guy and bleeds him dry, especially when he’s handed that first paycheck with his thirteen total hours of work on it and discovers that in some industries you actually get to pay them to let you work.

I myself had a brief-but-glorious career in a Baskin Robbins. I was politely encouraged to quit (apparently firing people makes customers not like ice cream anymore) after freehanding a “Happy Fuck Off Day” cake. In my defense, that is what the customer wanted it to say, and the customer is always right.

But the world of fast food employment isn’t all bad. There’s something to be said about a kid getting a job, sticking with it even though it’s craptastical, and then buying his first car with the money he saved up. That kid is going to go on to big things down the road.

All that is about to change, though. McDonald’s, arguably the leader in the field that other restaurant chains follow, has updated its uniforms to be more metrosexual less American. I don’t exactly know how one of the iconic symbols of America plans to dress its employees less American, but that’s literally the plan that got handed down from corporate. They even hired a stereotypical fashion designer to come up with the new outfits.

Feast your eyes:

No, you won’t get beaten up in the parking lot for wearing that outfit.

Words kind of fail me right now. I can’t wait to see how corporate plans to make Taco Bell uniforms less Hispanic.