Don’t Cha Wish Your Auntie was a Freak like Me?

Little Mermaid called me at work today on her new Razr phone. A pink one, no less. She was so excited. She asked me to call her right back. When I asked her why she told me she wanted to make sure she had the correct ring tone set for me?

My 11 year old niece not only owns a pink Razr phone, she knows how to program it and the song she picked for her favorite Aunt’s ring tone? Don’t Cha.

THAT is my girl!!!!!

Shuffle, Shuffle, Step- Ball-Change

Working in a remote quiet corner of the office, I have developed the uncanny ability to know who is approaching by the sound of their gait. It’s a gift, what can I tell you.

We have the following:

ADD Stride: Very quick paces, determined to get from point A to B in the most expeditious way possible. Unfortunately this one cannot simply get the task done without sticking their nose into everyone’s business along the way.

Not a Care in the World Stride: Very deliberate even stride. Never waivers, ever.

The Shuffling Seasonal Stride: Very typical of someone who could care less about being here, just please let the clock tick 5 already. The gait is similar to a child who is dragging right before a tantrum erupts. You know, long shuffling steps. Just listening to it exhausts me.

Clickity-Clack of the Female Drug Reps: Hey did you know that Manolo Blahnik’s and Jimmy Choo’s make entirely different clickity clacks? Neither did I, nor did I care. But for those of you who need this type of information, you are most welcome.

Obviously, number crunching has numbed my brain. Although my sense of humor remains intact.

Rock the Kasbah

What do you do when your first attempt at putting together a big-ass canopy fails miserably? Well first you dig up the step by step directions and then you erect the sucker indoors.

A while ago, I had a brainstorm and decided to purchase a mammoth canopy for my deck so that I could enjoy the summer with some shade. My thought was that once I assembled the canopy, I would leave it out there until summer was over and then retire it until next season. Of course what I did not take into account was the fact that my Nazi Home Owners Association would probably frown on a 10 foot by 10 foot canopy residing on my deck for a few months.

So here is a picture of my ill-fated attempt at cool breezes on the Kasbah deck. On the plus side, it was bought on E-bay for way more than I ever paid.

Cha-ching!

Dear Neighborhood Squirrels:

Nothing soothes me more than sitting on my deck and watching you all perform acrobatic feats to obtain the seeds from the many bird feeders on my deck. It’s therapeutic.

I am writing today to lodge a complaint. I have painstakingly harvested four tomato plants on my deck this season. It was part of my self imposed therapy after my dog passed away. Without that project, I may not have even stepped out onto the deck all summer for that was where Dexter and I spent much quality time. I am giving you all these details because I do not appreciate you and your friends having a green tomato smorgasbord.

I was not amused to see the three of you perched on my deck rails each with a tomato. Listen to me; bird’s seed feast very good tomato fest not so much. This is your one and only warning to cease and desist. Let me enjoy my tomato harvest. Remember, it has more meaning than a bunch of vegetation.

I’ve got my eyes on you.

Happy Birthday Friend

There are numerous adages I can come up with to describe the importance of the family we choose for ourselves. Instead, I will share with you a poem that is very meaningful to me and wish my very good friend a very Happy Birthday. As always, HFS I wish you happiness on your birthday and ALL days.

"Portrait of a Friend"

I can't give solutions to all of life's problems, doubts,
or fears. But I can listen to you, and together we will
search for answers.

I can't change your past with all it's heartache and pain,
nor the future with its untold stories.
But I can be there now when you need me to care.

I can't keep your feet from stumbling.
I can only offer my hand that you may grasp it and not fall.

Your joys, triumphs, successes, and happiness are not mine;
Yet I can share in your laughter.

Your decisions in life are not mine to make, nor to judge;
I can only support you, encourage you,
and help you when you ask.

I can't prevent you from falling away from friendship,
from your values, from me.
I can only pray for you, talk to you and wait for you.

I can't give you boundaries which I have determined for you,
But I can give you the room to change, room to grow,
room to be yourself.

I can't keep your heart from breaking and hurting,
But I can cry with you and help you pick up the pieces
and put them back in place.

I can't tell you who you are.
I can only love you and be your friend.

Because senility has obviously set in on me prematurely, I have gotten confused. I know HFS' birthday is August 13th. However, I am addled and have no other excuse. Instead we will all call it the celebration of HFS' birthday weekend. In the meantime, I will scour our drug samples at work to see if I can find something to retard this decrepitude that has taken over my senses.

What Was He Thinking? Was He Thinking at All?

I have to say, to the marketing wizards employed by Geico Insurance you all are certainly an entertaining bunch. Obviously your commercials are working. You’ve got my attention. Will I change insurance carriers? Not likely. I’ll do you one better and discuss the embarrassment that is Burt Bacharach.

Burt! What were you thinking? Are you lacking in capital? Why else would you possibly take part in a commercial that makes you look like you are having an epileptic/idiot savant episode? Dude!

Let me fill in those of you who may have more of a life than myself and have not taken note of the lyrics that Mr. Bacharach is singing during the commercial:

“I was hit in the rear.”
“The lizard licks his eyeballs.”
“I hope I’ll never get hit in the rear.....again.”

Burt, for the love of all that is dignified, what’s with the bazaar trance like state? Perhaps you are hosed (pun intended? - you bet your ass!) to the max. I can’t think of any other way you agreed to such image debauchery. Surely you did not need this type of exposure.

These commercials are more suited to Charo and Little Richard. I don’t’ have nightmares after viewing their spots. Burt please, get some new people. These are dragging you so far down.

What I Learned Today

You are never too old to get your wings clipped.

Bummer!

Rubbish and the Elimination Thereof

My Mom and I had an interesting conversation recently. She was recanting different landmarks in her life as a married woman. She made a very interesting comment which stuck with me. She said your Father and I have had the sweetest life together but this getting old business sucks donkey balls. (She used her mother tongue to describe the amount of suckage so I thought it best to translate)

Right after I returned downstairs to continue the conversation with my Mom, I had to change my shirt due to the snorting of coffee through my nose, I asked her to expound. She waived her hand at me and simply said ask your Father about the trash situation. Intrigued, I found my Dad and we had the following discussion:

Wicked H: Dad, I’ve got the trash from the kitchen, which trash can do you want me to put it in ( our conversation was taking place in the garage where he has 2 strategically placed garbage cans and one recycling container none of which are being used for their normal purpose)?

Dad: Just drop the bag right there and I’ll take care of it.

Wicked: Dad, why can’t I just put it into the trash can right here?

Dad: I will take care of it, just drop the bag.

Wicked: No really, I am not trying to cause trouble, I am just curious as to what you will do with the trash once I drop it?

Dad: I triple bag it and take it to the dumpster at work.

Wicked: Don’t we have neighborhood trash removal services?

Dad: Yes.

Wicked: Are you still paying for those services?

Dad: Yes.

Wicked: Then why would you transport the trash in your car to the dumpster at work?

Dad: I don’t like the odor of rotting trash in the garage.

Wicked: Wouldn’t you get the same odor in your car while hauling the trash in your vehicle.

Dad: No! I triple bag it.

Wicked: Ok Dad, I still don’t get why you won’t let the garbage service remove the trash but you do what makes you happy.

Dad: That’s what I do.

I am still trying to wrap my head around the whole idea of my 81 year old Dad playing part time sanitation engineer while performing the duties of a psychiatrist. If he didn’t get so agitated during our little discussion, I was going to remind him that most work place dumpster owners frown upon having non-work related trash deposited in them but I decided to pick my battles.

I am pretty sure senility is rearing it’s ugly head but if it makes him happy and he doesn’t get arrested for depositing trash at the workplace dumpster, go for it Dad. I sure hope his patient’s don’t witness him doing this or I’d like to be a fly on the wall when they ask him what the heck he is doing.

If anyone out there has any ideas or can enlighten me, I would be most appreciative.

To Dupe Or Not to Dupe, THAT is the Real Question

A male friend of mine was buying a large bag of dog food and encountered the following while in the checkout line:

The woman behind me asked if I had a dog. On impulse, I told her that no, I
was starting The Purina Diet again, although I probably shouldn't because
I'd ended up in the hospital last time, but that I'd lost 50 pounds before I
awakened in an intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of my
orifices and IVs in both arms.

I told her that it was essentially a perfect diet and that the way that it
works is to load your pants pockets with Purina nuggets and simply eat one
or two every time you feel hungry & that the food is nutritionally complete
so I was going to try it again.

I have to mention here that practically everyone in the line was
enthralled with my story, particularly the guy who was behind her.

Horrified, she asked if I'd ended up in the hospital in that condition
because I had been poisoned. I told her no; it was because I'd been sitting
in the street licking my balls and a car hit me.

I thought one guy was going to have a heart attack he was laughing so hard
as he staggered out the door

Dear Mother Nature:

Listen lady, I understand all about going through menopause but this is freaking ridiculous! I know we are warming the globe unnecessarily and we could do way better saving the planet. Point taken already.

I’ll make you a deal. If I can convince at least my whole row of neighbors to recycle responsibly, will you cut us some slack? It’s a start, you have to admit.

Think about it and get back to me.

I’ll be the one with my feet in a cooler filled with ice fanning myself constantly.

Love and kisses…oh forget it; it is way too damn hot to get near anyone!

I'd Still Pick Work, Way Better than the Alternative..

Just in case you ever get these two environments mixed up, this should make things a little bit clearer.

At Prison
you spend the majority of your time in a 10X10 cell
At Work
you spend the majority of your time in an 8X8 cubicle

At Prison
you get three meals a day fully paid for
At Work
you get a break for one meal and you have to pay for it

At Prison
you get time off for good behavior
At Work
you get more work for good behavior

At Prison
the guard locks and unlocks all the doors for you
At Work
you must often carry a security card and open all the doors for yourself

At Prison
you can watch TV and play games
At Work
you could get fired for watching TV and playing games

At Prison
you get your own toilet
At Work
you have to share the toilet with some people who pee on the seat

At Prison
they allow your family and friends to visit
At Work
you aren't even supposed to speak to your family

At Prison
all expenses are paid by the taxpayers with no work required
At Work
you get to pay all your expenses to go to work, and they deduct taxes from your salary to pay for prisoners

At Prison
you spend most of your life inside bars wanting to get out
At Work
you spend most of your time wanting to get out and go inside bars

At Prison
you must deal with sadistic wardens
At Work
they are called managers

Hip Kidz or Fashion Faux Pas?

Since when is wearing your old ratty pajama bottoms out in public the new black? Come on!

I am all for making your statement with fashion but that is simply crossing the line. To the tween who had perfectly manicured nails, beautifully coifed hair and sporting the latest Coach bag, I have to ask why would you wear the rattiest pair of Dora the Explorer pj bottoms to the Mall? Do you really want that kind of attention? I just cannot wrap my head around any tween male finding that look appealing.

Being a teenager is hard enough honey. Throw on a pair of conventional pants and live your life. Pajamas are meant to be worn in the confines of your own house. For the love of Michael Kors, promise to never do that again.

FBI Most Wanted Update

Well it seems my BIL was able to get past the Federales, twice. All those years of police training have paid off.

Happy to report their trip was uneventful in respect to being detained. However, I was told that a British couple was greeted in their Mexican Riviera Hotel by a snake. As the story was retold to me by my niece, complete with a spot on British accent. The couple reported it was quite disheartening and the Missus was unable to get a good night’s sleep after said incident.

Sorry Sis, we tried. Next time we will get him on a better list. Oops, did I just type that?

The Tie That Binds

Last night I had the extreme pleasure of meeting up with my globe trotting cousin and his new wife. Most of my family lives overseas. I did not have the luxury of growing up with cousins and Aunts and Uncles nearby and I did and do miss it.

My cousin and I are especially close which is difficult to attain considering we haven’t spent that much time together. He did spend 3 years in Maryland while earning his Masters but the rest of our time spent together was few and far between.

He’s been in the DC area for the past week. He is staying at the mansion while my sister is off in Mexico. He has had a whirlwind week between taking care of some business, introducing his wife to family and his many friends as well as being her tour guide. He called me yesterday and said he had a three hour window and that I was penciled in for dinner. I told him to meet me in Tyson’s and off I went.

You have to understand that I’d rather stick hot pokers in both eyes than to enter Tyson’s but this is the love I have for my cousin. A few cocktails, one bottle of wine, a fabulous dinner and three hours later we were saying our good byes. I welcomed the newest addition to my family and told her I thought he and she made a good pair. She told me that her husband was very distraught thinking that we all were not going to be able to have some time together and that she now understood why. Aw.

As I was walking back to my car, I wondered if we grew up together would our bind be as close. It doesn’t really matter. The tie that bonds is family and in our case physical distance is not an issue.

Good News and Bad News

Not exactly the words you want to hear when the car dealer returns to you after checking your credit history. However, in this case the story took a wild and strange turn.

My BIL, King of all new technology, went in to buy one of those new hybrid numbers. Once he decided which one he wanted, the requisite credit check was performed and the fun ensued. Here is a bit of the conversation between the salesman and my BIL:

Salesman: Well, I’ve got good news and bad news.
BIL: Okay. I can take it, what’s up.
Salesman: May I first look at your hands?
BIL: What?
Salesman: Work with me, may I see your hands?
BIL:(Displays both hands for the man)
Salesman: Thank you. The good news is that your credit is perfectly fine. The bad news is that your name showed up on the FBI’s top ten most wanted list.
BIL: Excuse me?
Salesman: I am relatively sure you are not the guy.
BIL: Why did you need to see my hands?
Salesman: The man on the list has tattoos all over his hands and he is 75 years old.

It turns out the wanted felon murdered a Police Chief in Pennsylvania over 15 years ago and one of his alias’ is my BIL’s name. The even weirder twist of this is that my BIL himself is a retired Police officer originally from Pennsylvania.

Being quite connected with the local and federal law officials; BIL got busy trying to figure out how to get his name off of this list. Countless phone calls and official letters of complaint to his Congressmen and Senator and to the head of Homeland Security finally gave a few more leads. This whole process took over a month and I am not quite sure if he got it all straightened out. BIL and the family are in Mexico on holiday right now so I know they made it into the country without hassle. Let’s hope they are able to leave Mexico without incident. My BIL is carrying an official letter stating he is not the man on the List but who knows how many of the A-listers also carry around “official” letters. I told him to get the letter written in Spanish as well just to be safe.

I always thought there was something shifty about you BIL. Here’s hoping the Federales don’t give you are hard time.

Hypocrite or Just Hungry?

Ok Internet, I have a confession to make.

I confess to partaking in the Drug Rep luncheons that are bestowed upon us at work. I know, I know. I am the same person who prophesizes to any Drug Rep who will listen, that I would gladly give up the luncheons if the drug companies would use their luncheon budget towards making all of our prescriptions more affordable.

I ask you. If you were faced with gourmet sandwiches and an Asian chicken salad to die for, would you not give in to temptation? I did and do on a regular basis. Well, as regular as the luncheons.

Mea maxima culpa.

Dear Neighbor:

First let me inquire as to your health status? I am sure it was something pretty serious for an ambulance to pull up at 4am. I am going to guess that it all worked out well because the ambulance left without you. Please get well soon.

Now if I could ask a huge favor. If at all possible, please try not to call the ambulance until at least 5:30 am during this week because I am sure that my next door neighbor did not appreciate my furry nephew barking up a storm at 4 am. I didn’t much appreciate it either but once I saw the ambulance while I was walking Google soon after the cacophony, I completely understood.

Feel better.

Hug and Kisses….

Care Package

I just spent the past thirty minutes receiving detailed care instructions for my impending house guest.

I was asked if I would be careless and just open the door and let him run away. I was told how he likes to have treats rolled into old socks so that as he unwraps each sock, he is rewarded with a morsel. A litany of information relayed to me by my niece via my sister. The house guest hasn’t even arrived yet. I am sure that the list of duties will be reviewed and expanded once my brother-in-law brings my furry nephew.

That’s right friends. I have the great pleasure of hanging with my furry nephew for the next week while his family jets off to Mexico. It has taken me this long to even want to pet a dog since mine died, so I am really looking forward to this adventure.

May I introduce to you Google the wonder pup? Stayed tuned for updates of the visit.



Update: The neighborhood has greeted Google very well. He did get a reprimand from one the of the neighborhood dog owners however. Before approaching said owner, they were warned of Google's propensity for jumping up to greet new people. The owner told me that it was clear that Google has not been trained. As Google and I continued on our walk, I pointed out that at least we are following the county's leash laws. Whatever, always a curmudgeon in the crowd.

DING DONG…The TROLL IS GONE!!!!!

I can see clearly now, the Troll is gone,
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone is the Furball that kept me down
It’s gonna be a bright, bright
Sun-Shiny day.

I think I can make it now, the Troll is gone
All of the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is the rainbow I’ve been praying for
It’s gonna be a bright, bright
Sun-Shiny day.

Be Careful What You Ask, You May Not Like the Answer

I ran a quick errand yesterday.

I was in search of three items. A cheap DVD player for the bedroom, paper towels and double A batteries. My scavenger hunt was successful and quick. Since I was in a store that sold in bulk quantities, I was able to procure more than enough batteries and paper towels to last at least 6 months.

I threw my purchases on the self check out conveyor belt and began tallying up the damage, patiently waiting for the computer to tell me what to do next. As a sign of good customer service, there are always attendants hovering around the self check out aisles ready to assist if needed. I was not in need of assistance however the male attendant decided to make a comment regarding my purchase.

Our exchange follows:

Bulk Store Attendant (BSA): Interesting grouping of items.

Wicked: Really? How so?

BSA: What do you need all these batteries for? (His question ends with a sneer)

Wicked: What do you think I need them for?

BSA: I asked first.

Wicked: Indeed. They are for Bob. He’s been getting a good workout lately.

BSA: (His face the deepest shade of red) Oh…um…it’s really none of my business…

Wicked: You asked and I answered, have a great day.

There are valid reasons I do not enjoy shopping; however this particular encounter was entertaining.