The Sign of a Good Soiree

There will be a shindig at my house Friday night. A bunch of friends from work and their significant others, what’s the big deal I often entertain for fifteen.

Yesterday an e-mail was sent around as to who was binging what, the menu looks pretty good. There was one item that I wasn’t expecting but I will not turn down.

“J” is bringing drinks and batteries.

Hello! Well then, it is bound to be a great time now!

Don’tcha wish you were going to be there too?

Maybe next time.

When Only Laughter Will Get You Through the Day

(Not intended to offend anyone; Catholic, dwarf, nor penguin)

The seven dwarfs go to the Vatican, and because they are the seven
dwarfs, they are ushered in to see the Pope. Dopey leads the pack.

Dopey, my son," says the Pope, "what can I do for you?"

Dopey asks, "Excuse me your Excellency, but are there any dwarf nuns
in Rome?"

The Pope wrinkles his brow at the odd question, thinks for a moment
and answers, "No, Dopey, there are no dwarf nuns in Rome."

In the background a few of the dwarfs start giggling.

Dopey turns around and gives them a glare, silencing them.

Dopey turns back. "Your Worship, are there any dwarf nuns in all of
Europe?"

The Pope, puzzled now, again thinks for a moment and then answers,
"No, Dopey, there are no dwarf nuns in Europe."

This time, all of the other dwarfs burst into laughter.

Once again, Dopey turns around and silences them, with an angry
glare.

Dopey turns back and says, "Mr. Pope! Are there ANY dwarf nuns
anywhere in the world?"

I'm sorry, my son, there are no dwarf nuns anywhere in the world."

The other dwarfs collapse into a heap, rolling and laughing, pounding
the floor, tears rolling down their cheeks, as they begin chanting......

"Dopey screwed a penguin!"
"Dopey screwed a penguin!”

Say NO to Crack

At the end of the Spa getaway, BS and I went on down the Ocean to visit Mama and Papa Bear. They made their annual Autumnal trek to the beach time share.

Forget that their condo was neither ocean front nor aesthetically pleasing, sometimes you just have to roll with it. We decided to surprise them while they were at the Beach. We just showed up, found the place they were staying and called them on their cell phone to let them know they had a flat tire. It was the only way we could think of to get them to come to the balcony/window of the unit they were in. That’s how we roll.

Once our surprise was appreciated we went off to dinner. Off season, there weren’t many choices but BS took the initiative to be proactive and did some research online and we decided on a restaurant that was much further than 2 minutes from where they were staying. Blasphemous according to Papa Bear, but he was out numbered.

When we arrived back to the time share, we encountered a couple of other guests. A rather strange duo of men; one was clearly mentally challenged and the other was temporarily physically challenged. They were both huddled near the elevator, one was trying to navigate his new crutches the other offering moral support. We were all at the elevator at the same time. Once the lift arrived, I asked the duo if they wanted to board first as there would be no way for all of us to ride together. Crutch Man stated that we should go ahead as he was still trying to get around.

We were happily ensconced in the time share enjoying Dancing with the Stars when BS’s cell started to ring. I don’t remember what the urgency of the call was but BS felt like she needed to step out of the time share to be able to handle the “crisis” at home. Since my parents are in their 80’s the TV is usually viewed at the highest level of sound as possible.

BS stepped into the hallway of the time share when she was greeted with the ass crack of Crutch Man. It seems that Crutch Man and his friend decided it would be easier if he rode on a luggage cart rather than learn how to use the crutches. What BS encountered was Crutch Man trying to step off the cart just as she was opening the door.

From the sound of her exclamation, it was not a sight to behold. She quickly slammed the door shut and went out onto the balcony to asses the cell phone situation.

Self-Imposed Jail Sentence After Larceny, Film at Eleven

My furry nephew is one smart dog. Nobody can deny it. Usually when I call over to my furry nephew’s house, I always receive a detailed misbehavior report, without fail. I won’t go into the countless times I have defended Google’s actions and equally how many times his immediate family tells me he is the devil incarnate.

Here is the latest. While my BIL was out front of the mcmansion raising Old Glory, he left the front door open so that Google could pay his respects to the flag. My BIL was puzzled as to why the devil dog was not out with him causing trouble.

When BIL went back inside, Google was nowhere to be found. BIL looked high and low sure that once he was discovered, Google would be in trouble. It turns out that while BIL was raising the flag Google laid at the threshold of the door on an air vent. Google’s name tag apparently got caught on the vent when he stood back up. Because he is frequently sent to his crate, he passed go and went directly to jail awaiting his sentence.

This is what BIL found:


Good boy Google! I am very sure he was let out on good behavior this time

The Art of Procurement

While getting for work today, I saw the reports of the crazed Black Friday shoppers lined up in cold, damp weather waiting for the early bird specials. Police have been dispatched to keep these people from injuring one another while waiting on line.

I simply don’t get it. What is the draw? I understand that there are some super deals out there but they must know that each store is only going to have five 50 inch plasma televisions available. Supply and demand, I get that too.

Seriously folks, have you tried online shopping? Right now all items are shipped for free to the comfort of your home or office. Plenty of deals to be found on the internets try it.

Stop the madness or at least give me a legitimate reason. I’ll be at work waiting with baited breath for an explanation.

For the love of Santa, be careful out there. Remember, He knows who has been naughty and who has been nice.

Happy Thanksgiving

Try to remember those less fortunate. I don't want to hear any of you getting arrested on Black Friday. What good are the deals if you end up in a body cast? Chill people, spread cheer. Make sure you reserve your spot on the couch or recliner for the inevitable tryptophan coma.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!

I leave you with a Holiday poem. Those of you who get Friday off, good for you. I'll be back at the salt mines.

T for time to be together, turkey, talk, and tangy weather.
H for harvest stored away, home, and hearth, and holiday.
A for autumn's frosty art, and abundance in the heart.
N for neighbors, and November, nice things, new things to remember.
K for kitchen, kettles' croon, kith and kin expected soon.
S for sizzles, sights, and sounds, and something special that abounds.
That spells ~~~THANKS---for joy in living and a jolly good Thanksgiving.

By Aileen Fisher

Conversation Stopper

“Schmucks are people too!”

Indeed.

Discuss.

Conciliate

Families, you can’t live with them but you can certainly blog about them. In case there are any of you who want to dodge the whole season of family get gatherings, my father has officially cancelled Thanksgiving this year.

Obviously there is a story behind the situation, here we go. It seems BS has pissed off the scheduling Gods at work and has to work the entire Turkey Day weekend including the holiday itself. We usually gather at her mcmansion. It is convenient for everyone but myself, but as the middle kid I am the peacekeeper.

Since she is working, I offered up my place this year. I figured Gestational Countessa would spend the actual day with her in-laws, the other BIL and Sous Chef Mermaid at his first daughter's home. I suggested that we gather at my place on Saturday. My parents were thrilled. I knew that original BIL probably wouldn’t make the trip so my parents offered to bring Sous Chef Mermaid to my home. Before we could even contact Gestational Countessa to see if that fit into her and Uncle Fun’s schedule, BS told my parents that she did not want them traversing the Beltway on the most traveled holiday. She told them that they could only travel via Metro.

As you can imagine, that went over like a lead balloon. I agree that my father shouldn’t navigate the crazy traffic on the Beltway anymore, I was hoping they would have ridden with Countessa and Uncle Fun. Instead, my father cancelled Thanksgiving on the spot. End of discussions.

Yesterday, we had a makeshift Thanksgiving at the mcmansion. BS called to let me know that a leg of lamb had mysteriously been accidentally defrosted and that she was hosting a family dinner Sunday evening. I guess she didn’t think I would make the trip out there but after realizing that we were not having Thanksgiving, I whipped up a couple of desserts and made the trek. As always the food was great and the company even better. I am glad I went.

This year I decided I would volunteer at a soup kitchen or mission for Thanksgiving. What are the rest of you doing

Bite Me

Once upon a time, when I was a big deal practice administrator for 5 clinics I had to hold the hand of a less than competent female physician. The worst kind of physician there is, one who is not only narcissistic but also lazy. Several times I wanted to remind this woman of the meaning behind the Hippocratic Oath but you know I just wasn’t getting paid enough.

It was a Monday morning post call for her; we were in East Jesus NC a microscopic town. A town where being on call might mean your beeper buzzed maybe 4 times the entire weekend if you went to the hospital and rounded on your inpatients. Keep in mind the hospital only has 30 beds. Microscopic. As I was entering the clinic with my arms full of stuff, I hadn’t even crossed the threshold before her incessant whining began. Lazy Doc had an audience and she liked to throw her weight around.

She told me that someone kept calling her beeper all weekend long at all hours of the night. This someone was looking for someone else; he had the wrong number and much free time on his hands. She wanted me to tell her, how this person came across the number and what I was going to do to fix it. All the while crowding me at the threshold of the clinic entrance while waving her finger in my face; I have yet to ingest even a drop of coffee.

I always find that the best defense is an offense so I tried to sound empathetic. I told her that I would find out who this person was and try to figure out how the number was obtained. In the meantime, I would give her another beeper with a new number and I would take care of letting all involved know what the new number was. I then tried to take the final step that would land me thoroughly in the clinic.

She got right into my face and demanded to know what I was going to tell this man who ruined her weekend. I replied, “I am going to tell him to bite me for inconveniencing you.”

It was my last act as practice administrator at that particular location and boy was it worth it. Why my last? She reported back to the COO that I told her to bite me. Not true but it didn’t matter. Yes, I still proudly use the statement but I make sure the recipient is mature enough to handle it.

Crispy

My parents and electronic equipment do not get along. It’s a generational thing, my parents are not stupid just not technologically savvy. Nor do they care to be, they claim that is one of many reasons they produced children.

For the longest time after receiving a state of the art answering machine for Christmas one year, the outgoing message was “the button is flashing but nothing is happening, maybe we should just wait for Wicked to drop by and we can….beep.” On the plus side, the telemarketers didn’t leave messages for a while.

My dad has a computer and until last year he had a dial up connection. We and he figured why waste the money if he wasn’t going to play with the computer. He gradually increased his surfing abilities and last year we got him a years DSL connection and the largest and most affordable monitor. Dad has set the font of his computer to the largest type possible and the standard monitor could not handle the display. Whatever makes him happy, always our motto.

Yesterday I got a call from my B-I-L. He asked me if I had heard from my dad and his tone was weird. My thoughts immediately jumped towards illness or injury and I replied that I hadn’t. BIL took a deep breath, my heart stopped, and he said I think Dad has killed the computer. OH MY GOD. Stop the presses. While I was trying to get my heart rate back to normal speed, BIL gave me the strange details.

To make a long story short, the power source has fried the CPU. BIL has taken it upon himself to do the research to get dad a new computer for Christmas. Sounds good to me, I had purchased the last one. Hopefully the crispy critter did not also kill the monitor.

Note to self, remind BIL to deliver any news about my parents in a less dramatic way. Another note to self, chill out!

Nickel Slots

On a recent trip down memory lane, my older sister the brain surgeon recounted a hilarious tale. The three of us, me, BS and Sous Chef Mermaid, had gone to Old Towne to spend the afternoon. We were taking a Starbucks break and enjoying the day, each others company and reminiscing.

I would like to qualify this story by making it very clear that I wasn’t even born when this story took place. I am completely in the clear. My parents had a child once every eight years, to this day I am not sure if this was the original plan or just fate.

BS was probably elementary school age when this occurred. During a shopping excursion to Thomas’ Market, BS got a little bored while riding in the back seat of the family car a 57-Chrysler New Yorker. Apparently, this model had a cigarette lighter for the back seat passengers. BS was playing with the lighter when she had an epiphany. She figured out that a nickel would fit perfectly into the lighter’s opening. So she tried it, she even managed to get the nickel all the way to the base of the opening. What she didn’t know was that the nickel triggered the mechanism and it became red hot. She realized that what she did was wrong but didn’t know how to correct the problem. In the meantime, the nickel was producing smoke. BS decided that cracking her window might help the situation. My father has a strong aversion to drafts, so when he heard the air coming in from the rear window he told her to roll the window back up. In the meantime, the smoke is getting thicker. BS is fanning and blowing the smoke away. The entire mechanism is getting quite warm and the portion of the seat panel that the lighter is affixed to is now also smoldering.

It was right about then that my father noticed the back seat was on fire. He immediately pulled over while simultaneously trying to hold things together. He is not well known for holding things together when it affects his family directly. BS reports that he was frantically yelling at our mom that the car was on fire and that everyone needed to evacuate as soon as they pulled over.

The details are fuzzy, but I believe that during the smoldering session the nickel also shorted out the lighter. Another driver stopped to help. They managed to contain the fire and the good Samaritan also pulled the fuse for the lighter.

So friends, where there is smoke there is also usually fire. So many other things could have gone wrong that day but thankfully the damage was small, considering. Lessons to be learned? Try to have fun activities for your children while riding in the car or science experiments are bound to happen.

Do NOT try this at home.

Dear Lady Driving the Red Blazer

Seriously. If you cannot navigate your vehicle, trying to back up into a parking space while on the phone is not a good idea. I do not know of any other driver who would have the patience to wait for you to perform the multiple odd maneuvers it takes for you to park. Six tries to back into a space is a bit excessive.

Here is a novel idea, get off the phone, use your body and turn to see where you are going, also the mirrors on the side are also used for navigation as well as touching up your makeup and hair. Although it is quite entertaining to watch this action every day from my office window, the other individuals trying to get to work by simply pulling into their parking spot are alleging forces to harm you and your vehicle.

I am trying to help you out. Consider this your one and only warning.

Now I Know

Every time I see a news report of vehicles being swept away in raging flood waters, I used to think how stupid does someone have to be to try and drive through a body water that should not be there.

I found out the almost tragic way. I am sharing my tale so that none of you will attempt this yourselves. I highly do not recommend it.

I, and thousands of others, take a very scenic windy route to get to work. Originally this route was not designed for the amount of traffic it currently receives. When it mists this route floods those of us who drive it know it. The potholes on the perimeter never get patched because invariably this road is always moist.

Yesterday morning, after an evening of steady rain, I headed out to work. I even listened to the warnings of my weatherman who said due to the fallen leaves the flooding possibilities were much higher than usual. I decided I would head out in my normal course and surely the road would be blocked off by authorities if the situation was dire.

I was wrong. I got to the section of the road that usually is problematic. Yesterday it was underwater, completely. Yet traffic was forging ahead. Thankfully, we were crawling along. Otherwise, me and my SUV would have been floating into the abyss. Instead, the Lexus in front me who tried navigating the waters at full speed ended up floating into the abyss and I caused a very big wave which enabled him further into the gorge.

Stupid is as stupid does. I have learned my lesson.

Na Na Na Na, Hey Hey Hey……

Goodbye...Mr Rumsfeld.

As they say in the South, " don't let the door hit you where the good Lord split you."

Enough Already

Thank goodness Election Day has finally arrived. I know that the nasty advertisement campaign is nothing new but seriously, I have had enough.

I’d like to think our voting public is a bit more sophisticated than using only the television commercials to make their decision. Surely we are better than that. Are you with me?

I honestly don’t want to know who you vote for, just please go out and vote. Remember, I will not put up with any of your complaints if I have found out you did not cast a vote.

This is Wicked H and I approve of this post. (Sorry, had to do it)

And another thing, do the people stalking the polling places honestly believe the piece of paper they shove into my hands is going to sway my decision? Hello? I am at the polling place; chances are I have already made up my mind. Just because your flyer is a pretty color will not change my mind. Give us voters more than a little credit.

Sheesh, this exercising your Constitutional Right is exhausting business.

Go. VOTE!

To Tantrum or Not, That is the Question

Schools must be out today because our waiting room is choc full of kids. They seem to be enjoying our play area except for one young tyke who is in full tantrum mode. I can hear him clearly through my office door which is closed. He exclaims over and over again “I just DON’T WANT TO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Alrighty then.

This brings me to my attempt at getting my way via tantrum. It wasn’t pretty and it was completely ineffective. I was probably six years old. I was accompanying my mom on one of our thousands of shopping excursions. I don’t remember exactly what was up my ass that particular day but I clearly remember lying on the floor in the middle of the cosmetic aisle in JC Penney. My arms were flailing, my legs kicking and my voice annoyingly high pitched and whining. It took my mom all of two seconds to straddle me. She bent down towards me, gave me the glare of doom and in a haunting whisper told me that if I didn’t get up and right now I would die very quickly.

You do not fool around with the trifecta glare, whisper and threat of death. I never, ever tried that approach again. Not being a parent, I am interested in knowing what other tactics are out there. Feel free to elaborate.

In the meantime, I went out to the reception area to see what Mr. Tantrum was wigged out about, it seems the tantrum has passed. He is happily sitting near the castle in the waiting room with many toys strategically positioned around him. Ah, nirvana.

A Little Help, Please

I haven’t been to Starbucks in a while. Unless it’s a drive through, I really cannot be bothered. It’s all about convenience. Anyway, I have frequented the place several times in the last month and I have a question.

How exactly does one make a hot beverage, hotter? This is a serious question. While I was in Old Towne, the yuppie ahead of me emphatically asked for her hot chocolate to be extra hot. Then when I was in “shi-shi” spa land, an inflammation scientist asked for his latte to be extra hot. Most recently, I grabbed a pumpkin spice latte and the gentleman behind me reminded the Barista to make sure his blah-di-blah-blah was extra hot.

What gives? By what method are the Baristas making things hotter? If you know, fill me in. I am just not brave enough to upset the Zen tide of the inside of a Starbucks with what might be a stupid question. Also, if they are able to make the beverage hotter, do we have to sign a legal form which keeps us from being able to start litigation if the liquid is beyond its boiling point?

I thank you in advance for the information.

Inflammation and the International Conference Thereof

During our “shi-shi” spa retreat, we encountered an entire scientific international conference dedicated to the study of inflammation. Mind blowing isn’t it. (Those of you with your minds in the gutter, please take a moment to get it out of your systems)

We realized this gold mine while on the courtesy shuttle that was taking us to our parked car. You see, my sister (BS) and I are made of sugar and we thought we might melt in the pelting rain; ergo, the need for the shuttle. The other passenger on the shuttle was a lovely woman from Queens who was so excited to be able to spend the afternoon at Wal-Mart. They must grow them crazy in Queens. I cannot believe anyone would come all the way from NY to be happy to shop in Wal-Mart while attending a conference. Because BS is way more sociable than me, she inquired as to what type of conference the lady from Queens was attending. I thought I heard her say inflammation, BS thought she said information. By then we were at our car and I didn’t much care.

We went off to lunch and watched the Queens conference lady dodge 4 lanes of traffic in the deluge and make her way to Wal-Mart. Whatever. We returned from lunch, parked the car back in the lot and decided to cut through the conference center of the hotel to avoid most of the rain.

We entered the Inflammation Highway (pun most certainly intended). The entire place was decked out with scientific evidence of all things inflamed. I am not sure why but BS and I found this hysterical. I am pretty sure the scientists representing more nations than I can even point out on a globe, were not amused by our exhilaration. They were even less thrilled that we were trying to figure out how to lift any type of chachki available on the exhibition tables.

Theorems proven during this discovery? The scientists who study inflammation have zero sense of humor. Their trinkets were not worth the effort. Each time we spoke of the international conference dedicated to the study of inflammation, we laughed like hyenas. Of course the martinis may have played into the empirical evidence as well.

Whine Free Wednesday

Okay, you guys may not understand what an accomplishment this is, but so far I have yet to whine about any work related topic today. I think it may be the beginning of a trend. The whole make my life better pact, still in force.

What makes this particular Wednesday memorable is that it coincides with the end of the month number crunch which usually sets my peeps into a tailspin. I am bound and determined to not let it get to me this month.

Perhaps we can celebrate this day next year. Wicked’s whine free Wednesday!

Keep your fingers crossed. My co-workers have way more faith in me than I do. They think I can go the whole day.

We shall see, keep the cheese ready just in case.