Posted in complaint department, humor

Everything is Balanced

I got a compliment about my hair last night. I was told it’s the best haircut I’ve had in 20 years (literally). So while that makes me happy about my current haircut, I can’t help but think I looked crappy for 20 years. And just because it’s the best haircut I’ve had in 20 years, does that make it a good haircut? Or is it all relative and I still look shitty just ateenybitless shitty?

So while I’m busy feeling good about my hair, some guy in the cafeteria very pointedly checks out my feet. There is no doubt in my mind it was a purposeful look. He wanted to see what my piggy toes were all about, and I could not have felt more self conscious. Even if he did it because he’s into feet [strong possibility] what if he’s a foot modeling agent trying to find the next big thing in the foot modeling world? My feet aren’t great. My shoes, wedges, are built more for comfort than beauty [they are Clarks, by way of explanation.]  So now I have to be upset that my feet weren’t attractive enough for the guy who has a foot thing to look back up at my face with a smile? I get to be two different levels of creeped out.

Luckily, I don’t know who he is; nor where he works or if he’s a very important person or one of “the rest of us”. That’s probably a good thing

Thank God nobody knows my underwear is about 5 years old.

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Posted in humor, photos, stuff

Think Pink

I’m from Leominster MA. I’ve lived here almost all of my life – I was born one town away, but my permanent address for 94% of my life (I did the math, poorly, but you’ll have to trust me) has been here. And we are proud of two things around here; Johnny Appleseed and plastics. If we could combine the two, I think the town would implode. The plastic pink flamingo was invented here. Enough other people have written about Don Featherstone and his fabulous gift to the world, so you can check out the Wikipedia entries. I just want to share this photo of the one in my mom’s yard. Earlier today there was an Easter egg under it, which would have made for a better photo, but the kids grabbed it pretty quickly.

Pink

I’ve seen real flamingos, and they seem like they’d be kind of a pain to keep in the yard, what with their need to constantly feed on shrimp and stuff. Sure, my back yard is a bit swampy every time it rains, but I’m pretty sure I’ve only got mosquitoes and ticks out there. No shrimp. So the flamingos would just be really ticked off at me. I think it would be much easier to own this kind. I might have to help them stand after a windstorm, but other than that, they’d be pretty self-sufficient. I like that in a lawn decoration.

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Posted in complaint department, humor, stuff

I Am Special

I always knew I was special; my mom told me so, and she’s always right. (Trust me. You do not want to argue with her about this.)

HOWEVER, there are times when I don’t want to be special. Do. Not. Want. Today was one of those days. Some people might tell me that I should buy a lottery ticket (I assume they work for the lottery commission?) and some people will say it’s fate, because I’m special. This is the problem.

Today I took my car in for the 30k service, and to have them do the recall check. You know, I own a Mazda 6 and I got a letter about spiders. Spiders building webs in the fuel systems of beloved vehicles that might cause fuel tanks to explode or something. You know, spiders being spiders… being terrorists.

According to my dealership, I’m officially the first customer to bring in a Mazda 6 that ACTUALLY HAD THE SPIDER WEB IN THE FUEL VENT LINE!  I’m SPECIAL!!!!

Out of 65,000 cars recalled, I have the problem. As of a month ago, only 20 cars had a web. I assume there will be more, but what if I’m only 21 out of 65000? What kind of crazy is that? I should celebrate with, I don’t know, pizza and beer? I think that’s how you celebrate the horrible knowlege that a yellow sac spider has it out for you and wants your car to go up in flames. Stupid spider. Stupid being special.

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Posted in humor

Accident or Murder?

It is with heavy heart that Phantom Puppy LaFerriere announces the death and removal to a landfill of Baby, his beloved green dinosaur toy. Given to him by his human cousins for Christmas 2010, Baby was carried all over the house, one of the few toys to receive this level of love and attention. As ugly as the toy was, we had grown very attached to it simply because the dog loved it as much as he did.

Yesterday, Phantom’s mom made the horrifying misstep of mentioning how long the dinosaur had lasted, and within 10 minutes, the head was ripped open and fiberfill was flying.

We snuck it away from him and he actually spent 30 minutes HUNTING for the damned dino, and then actually seemed depressed about not finding it. Wouldn’t play fetch. We feel awful. Then again, we’re not the one who RIPPED IT’S HEAD OPEN WITH OUR SHARP DOG TEETH!

Due to Monday trash pickup, there are no calling hours.

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Posted in humor, parenting

Showbiz

My son, the previously mentioned 13-year-old who owns all the socks festooning my home, is an actor. He gets this from his father. I tried to act in high school. My God, I wanted to be a great actress so badly I could taste it. I took theater as an elective and I tried out for all the class plays and the musicals. I was never more than chorus in the musicals, and was only cast in one of the class plays. I still remember one of my lines from it, and I’m not even going to mention how many years it’s been.

Water, water in the kitchen
All around the sink
But you are in the living room
And not a drop to drink.

I played Lettie, an insane poet. It was a murder mystery. I’ll give you two guesses which insane poet was the murderer.

I don’t know that I did a good job. I made people laugh, but that’s because I was the comic relief. I’m pretty sure I spent a lot of the play wearing a shiny yellow raincoat. I don’t think I screwed anything up so badly that I destroyed the production, but I probably chewed on quite a bit of scenery. I think I’d be a much better actress now, because I understand how it’s supposed to work, if someone wants to give me a chance. I’d prefer not to be typecast as a psycho poet, but I’m sure if you happened to SEE me in that production, you might be tempted.

Where was I going with this? Oh, I was discussing my son, whose father used to have an Equity card . He is the tree from which this apple fell. The boy has the lead in one musical (The Sound of Music) and a supporting role (with 4 songs) in another (13: The Musical). He memorizes lines like there’s no tomorrow; another difference between us. (This paragraph could use more parenthesis.) He played Scrooge in the Middle school production of A Christmas Carol and was really good. And I’m not just saying that. Well, I did just say it, but I meant it, you know?

There are rehearsals for one or more shows 5-6 days a week. Tomorrow, he has SoM rehearsal from 9-11 and 13 rehearsal from 1:30-5, which is actually nice because it was supposed to be 12-5 and the drive between rehearsals is about 35 minutes. He’s at 13 rehearsals until 10pm tonight. This child is BUSY.

I can’t wait until he starts getting paid the big bucks for acting because I would REALLY like a house down on the Cape. Maybe something that looks like a castle with turrets and ramparts and whatever else a castle has. But made of glass so I can see the ocean. Ya, that sounds practical! Well, except for the bathroom. Maybe we can have real walls for the bathroom. But everything else should be glass. I don’t want an obstructed view. Also, he’ll have to make enough money for us to invest heavily in Windex. I’m just sayin’.

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