tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63812065842124631082024-03-05T05:35:49.980-08:00chicken mamaUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-72950669098023909742011-11-15T18:58:00.000-08:002011-11-15T18:58:17.719-08:00Awkward Situation #198I started a new job and the maintenance guy happens to be Native American. He has a very odd sense of humor, so when he gave me thumbs-up and said, "two chocolate thumbs up!" I wasn't too surprised. I returned the thumbs-up and said, a little sarcastically, "uhm, two white chocolate thumbs up?" He paused and looked rather angry. Then he said, "I was referring to the chocolate you gave me yesterday."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-45255861330903137042011-09-04T11:12:00.000-07:002011-09-04T11:12:51.052-07:00Future FattyMy 3 year old just said, "after I finish my brownie, can I have cookies for desert?" Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-41009948592065522612011-07-08T13:59:00.000-07:002011-07-08T21:04:53.042-07:00La CucarachaOnce a week I take my son to an art class. We sing a song and then do a craft project related to the song. Today, my son told the teacher that he wanted to make a cockroach. I fought the urge to scream "We don't have roaches!" <br />
<br />
Someone suggested we sing La Cucaracha. The teacher went with it, and we all made cockroaches out of paper plates, pipe cleaners, and glitter. Two hoity toity moms got upset and announced that they were making "bugs" and not cockroaches.<br />
<br />
We made an awesome glitter incrusted cockroach with giant googly eyes.<br />
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Also, please note that we don't have roaches. I swear. The opportunistic ones that come inside if we forget to plug the drain don't count.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-89626283727231839352011-07-07T19:14:00.000-07:002011-07-08T19:15:35.694-07:00Yo GThis is hilaaarious! <a href="http://www.myrapname.com/ ">myrapname.com</a><br />
<br />
I've updated my name accordingly.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-77123130630037253842011-06-30T17:43:00.000-07:002011-06-30T17:43:36.041-07:00MagicMy cell phone has been having a lot of problems lately. Today it started showing the battery charging icon even though I had just unplugged it. This is the best quirk it has had! I held it in what I hope was a mystical fashion, showed it to my husband, and said, "Look what happens when I focus my energy on the phone! I can make it charge!" <br />
<br />
His response was not an amazed "you're Harry fucking Potter!" like I was hoping for. It was a skeptical "you're weird".Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-294947772326102342011-06-23T21:26:00.000-07:002011-06-24T18:22:23.246-07:00SophisticatedMy three-year-old caught a grasshopper and named it Frasier. Not Kipper or Caillou, but Frasier. Sometimes I get the feeling that he should be spending more time around people his own age.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-40576498996078531502011-04-25T15:25:00.000-07:002011-04-25T17:24:14.506-07:00Scambled EggsI have a chicken who has been sitting on fertilized eggs for over a week. They should hatch into fuzzy little chicks in 10 days.<br />
<br />
This morning, in a groggy haze, I made scrambled eggs for breakfast. I remember noticing that one egg was particularly dirty, but I didn't think much of it.<br />
<br />
Then I went outside to feed the chickens. I pulled the setting hen off her nest, removed the one blue egg (one hen always lays her egg under the setting hen) and then counted the eggs. There were only 13. One was missing!<br />
<br />
I recounted, and searched, and realize that I most certainly ate it. I am fairly certain it wasn't developing. I candled the eggs a few days ago and a few were duds. If it wasn't, there would have been blood. Even drenched in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sriracha_sauce">cock sauce</a>, I would have noticed blood. I hope. Or crunchy bits.<br />
<br />
I won't be eating eggs again any time soon.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-89924617341523858712011-04-23T17:52:00.000-07:002011-04-27T22:50:18.590-07:00Do I look like a Ma'am?Last week I got to verbally abuse a barista at my favorite coffee shop.<br />
<br />
The little fucker is new, and replaced my favorite guy. This one keeps calling me "ma'am" and it pisses me off. He manages to say it at least 5 times in a 5 minute period. So today I asked him how old he thought I was. "24?" I told him it was a good answer since I'm almost 30. I told him that being called ma'am makes me feel old and then I want to cry and eat chocolate. I dropped a dollar in the jar and told him that if he ever does it again, that I'm going to stop tipping him.<br />
<br />
We chatted a little, then he handed me my coffee and did it AGAIN. He immediately caught himself and said it was habit, and he was sorry. I told him that I was going to jump back there and kick his scrawny little punk ass if he didn't watch it.<br />
<br />
Then a lady who was about 50 years old walked in, and I asked her "Do you like it when they call you ma'am?" and she said it bugs the crap out of her.<br />
<br />
I'm so awesome.<br />
<br />
And yes, I know. He spit in my coffee. It tasted great. Like punk bitch.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-81828197532451961612011-03-27T20:00:00.000-07:002011-03-26T20:01:19.376-07:00DietI saw a fat lady begging on a street corner today. Her cardboard sign said "Hungry".Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-70625854531232996892011-03-26T14:09:00.000-07:002011-03-25T14:10:09.175-07:00You Don't SayMy peanut butter has a warning label that says "Produced in a factory that processes peanuts."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-43282183316411714212011-03-25T12:56:00.000-07:002011-03-25T12:57:02.081-07:00CrapI'm getting over the stomach flu and decided that I was well enough to venture out into the world and run a few errands. Of course, as soon as I walked into the store, my stomach started rumbling. I convinced Kiddo to walk quickly (yet nonchalantly) to the restroom. I tried to poop like a ninja. I would have been successful, except that Kiddo is two. At the top of his lungs (there is no other tone of voice) he announced <i><b>"You went poop didn't you? Wow! That's a lot of poop! You pooped a lot, you really did! Good job Mom!"</b></i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-78075624900133336402011-03-24T09:04:00.000-07:002011-03-25T12:57:20.042-07:00EngineersMy husband loves playing video games. We had a big fight over him playing them around our son. He insisted that our two-year-old would understand it was just pretend. It quickly became obvious that I was (obviously) right. <br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> MOM! That white truck is a bad guy! Run him off the road! HIT HIS CAR! HIT IT! Don't let him get away!<br />
<br />
My husband got the point and stopped playing games when our son is around. However, it has been months and the kid has not forgotten a thing. We frequently have conversations like this:<br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> What's that building?<br />
<b>Me:</b> That's the College of Engineering. That's where you'll go to school if you want to be an engineer. Engineers design new things.<br />
<b>Son:</b> And they have big guns and shoot down the bad guys!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio6IaUbnbJxkl3-lIZoBHMpnU9aGJ2I0imMXapwFIHwARrb6B6ILy6uAZVwnCrhIrlERKI6ob1Oa4xpqjbXb8DYWLKmfKvsM8K-Jwj0tGEqt4Lb2xJ1HQzgzd2eQ-GekSFBiLIewmqQzUF/s1600/Engineer.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="346" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio6IaUbnbJxkl3-lIZoBHMpnU9aGJ2I0imMXapwFIHwARrb6B6ILy6uAZVwnCrhIrlERKI6ob1Oa4xpqjbXb8DYWLKmfKvsM8K-Jwj0tGEqt4Lb2xJ1HQzgzd2eQ-GekSFBiLIewmqQzUF/s400/Engineer.png" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-17658701762736090402011-03-23T17:56:00.000-07:002011-03-23T17:56:36.389-07:00NutsEarlier this week my husband told me about the psych ward at the hospital. It turns out that if you drop someone off there, the hospital is required to keep them for at least 72 hours to do a psych evaluation. Today, in the midst of the dirty house and the screaming kid, I remembered the psych ward.<br />
<br />
<b>Me:</b> Hey hun, do the people in the psych ward have their own rooms?<br />
<b>Hubby:</b> Yeah.<br />
<b>Me:</b> Do they have air conditioning? <br />
<b>Hubby:</b> Yeah.<br />
<b>Me:</b> Can I bring a book?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-90079818991285308372011-03-07T19:08:00.000-08:002011-03-07T19:09:40.266-08:00Bribes!You mean I can't even BRIBE you people to post? <br />
<br />
Geeze!<br />
<br />
It was a...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQOml7_UzjNY5Z1f8PfXUepElreSBYlQJE89BZjd4SOMWJqLGb0GTtfzc4Lk-GKNOJWk6-LhampdbVKH3aSCTsG-uor_D5X380nRVzBUhXgiWGawcV6urvBXznWNnNNFvqpxakn85aBmFk/s1600/IMG_4595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQOml7_UzjNY5Z1f8PfXUepElreSBYlQJE89BZjd4SOMWJqLGb0GTtfzc4Lk-GKNOJWk6-LhampdbVKH3aSCTsG-uor_D5X380nRVzBUhXgiWGawcV6urvBXznWNnNNFvqpxakn85aBmFk/s400/IMG_4595.JPG" /></a></div>...TINY PLUNGER! <br />
<br />
Seriously. WTF.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-16931217539854174202011-03-04T13:15:00.000-08:002011-03-04T14:28:48.664-08:00Contest!<a href="http://thehenway.com/">LareePQG </a>can't be the only one to have a contest! Oh man, am I a copycat.<br />
<br />
If you would like a chance to win a pack of seeds (my choice), then respond to this post with your bestest guess.<br />
<br />
Someone gave this to me at a dental convention yesterday. <br />
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What is it?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieAKqhMKQiXL1E5w9qfh1LcHZFKpYXTwdp7H9HvEwCQrACcP3CX65zQL0OvPU8hMrEB3w0kP05-Z4RmftWfQ11xtHCkjIC-VYC6Vztts_Kk-gxEJTQVmftnnEONqgDsaai3UvK9fkxulZX/s1600/EwwLOL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieAKqhMKQiXL1E5w9qfh1LcHZFKpYXTwdp7H9HvEwCQrACcP3CX65zQL0OvPU8hMrEB3w0kP05-Z4RmftWfQ11xtHCkjIC-VYC6Vztts_Kk-gxEJTQVmftnnEONqgDsaai3UvK9fkxulZX/s400/EwwLOL.jpg" /></a></div><br />
The winner will be randomly chosen from the group of people who guess correctly. This contest will close when I feel like closing it, so don't dawdle!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-80802254411241260552011-03-02T20:34:00.000-08:002011-03-02T20:34:21.174-08:00Caffeine!Today I had: 2 shots of espresso, a bottle of Starbucks' frappuccino, a cup of coffee, a soda, and 2 chocolate covered espresso beans. Let's just say it kept my patients entertained. Or, possibly, annoyed.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-77079242431917967192011-02-28T13:42:00.000-08:002011-02-28T13:48:00.977-08:00Vegetarian not VeganMy Dad teased me for eating eggs even though I'm a vegetarian. He said that the eggs have potential to hatch into chickens so I shouldn't be eating them.<br />
<br />
I told him that I'm pro-choice.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-13567172039598800102011-02-27T18:20:00.000-08:002011-02-27T18:25:27.627-08:00Future PoliticianMy son is a master of rephrasing things. <br />
<br />
"I not yelling, I just talking loud."<br />
<br />
"I not picking my nose. I checking for boogers." <br />
<br />
"I not kicking you. I just putting my foot on your face."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-181538340675230462011-02-26T20:33:00.000-08:002011-02-27T18:28:52.310-08:00Reason I shouldn't be allowed in public #32My husband let me meet his friends. This is a very rare event, as I frequently embarrass him. I didn't disappoint him today:<br />
<br />
(Husband's friends are comparing scars)<br />
<br />
<b>Husband's Friend:</b> I have a scar on my <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perineum">taint</a>! Does anyone want to see it? It's shaped like a lightening bolt, so I'm like Harry Potter. Zach? Want to see my scar?<br />
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<b>Me:</b> Hey, I have a scar there too! Child birth is a bitch!<br />
<br />
(Smiles were replaced by looks of horror as people realized that I was telling the truth)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-2075957312613449752011-02-18T06:34:00.001-08:002011-02-18T06:34:20.247-08:00Oh god, what have I done?Never do a Google Image Search for a medical procedure the night before you are going to get that medical procedure.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-54549700018649899372011-02-15T12:22:00.000-08:002011-02-27T18:26:18.751-08:00Old LadyI picked an argument that I shouldn't have picked. I was at the mall with my two-year-old and he pointed to an old lady.<br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> "What's that man doing?"<br />
<b>Me:</b> "That's not a man, it is a woman"<br />
<b>Son:</b> "Nooo Mom! HAHA! That's a man!"<br />
<i>*Old lady glares at us*</i><br />
<b>Me:</b> "No, it is a lady. She's sitting down."<br />
<b>Son:</b> "HAHAHA! Noooooo! That's a man!"Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-16617845390706590072011-01-29T13:07:00.000-08:002011-01-29T14:05:04.645-08:00Drunk BrowniesI made brownies. Fancy fudge brownies featuring chocolate infused with Grand Marnier, which results in hints of hazelnut, orange, and cognac.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYvziydm1v4IqzKK-98qVD2qCn5bpXS3j5QX2qfV5YkBXMg0H-pDJIkbfYw6PiOvdXYJzGY8QIo2cAVWUFpnXglCEYaACCQJZxEiJ0Bjy6ARA6APAia7Qu_JAaKbHbzVBPlQqYs1GUQWVJ/s1600/drunkbrownies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="336" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYvziydm1v4IqzKK-98qVD2qCn5bpXS3j5QX2qfV5YkBXMg0H-pDJIkbfYw6PiOvdXYJzGY8QIo2cAVWUFpnXglCEYaACCQJZxEiJ0Bjy6ARA6APAia7Qu_JAaKbHbzVBPlQqYs1GUQWVJ/s400/drunkbrownies.jpg" /></a></div>(Click for bigger)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-33563530526371676212011-01-28T12:32:00.000-08:002011-01-28T12:32:28.002-08:00Cox CommunicationsI enjoy chatting with my patients about where they work. I usually ask if they still like the company after working for them. It is nice to know how a large corporation treats their employees. Similarly, I ask restaurant employees if they'll still eat at the restaurant they work at after seeing what goes on behind the scenes.<br />
<br />
The other day I met a nice young lady who worked for Cox Communications.<br />
<br />
I asked her, "Do you still like Cox?" <br />
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Thank god she had a sense of humor.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-60500935564257392432011-01-20T18:56:00.000-08:002011-01-20T19:05:43.347-08:00AmazonI met a nice old couple who worked for Amazon.com's shipping center during the Christmas season. They joked that Amazon sold "everything from bibles to dildos."<br />
<br />
I asked them which one they sold more of.<br />
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Dildos, obviously.<br />
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I'm assuming that people don't wear out their bibles.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6381206584212463108.post-90905307729315520992011-01-12T18:10:00.000-08:002011-01-12T18:11:19.719-08:00AwkwardIf someone tells you that she hasn't seen her boyfriend in two years, you should assume that he is in the military. You should not assume that the restraining order is up.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0