Thursday, August 29, 2013

WTF Wednesdays: Really Charles Darwin?

Dear Charles Darwin,

Please accept my formal resignation.  I'm afraid I have to defect from the club. 
It's not that I don't believe, it's just that evidence to the contrary seems....abundant. 

No offense. 

I really thought you really had it nailed, but then I walked outside and...WTF?

CLEARLY, you appear to have been mistaken.

It was a good theory though, and MAD props to you for thinking of it....better luck next time.

Sincerely,

Me

Monday, August 19, 2013

Dear People for Whom I Am Housesitting...

Many interesting things happened whilst you were gone (none of which demonstrate irresponsibility on my part) including, but not limited to:

1) I fed & watered your Black Labrador Retriever, Rosie.

2) My Shih Tzu ate some of her own poo (and maybe Rosie's too...it's hard to tell, but nonetheless your yard is FREE of poo...you're welcome).

3) I learned how to...make AWESOME homemade pizza.

 
4) I accidentally set fire to some pizza dough in your oven (you really should check the batteries in your smoke detectors…no reason, just a feeling I have…that maybe you should do that, but not because of flame or smoke or anything)

5) I ate some really awesome homemade pizza

6) Rosie ate nothing but the dog food that I was supposed to provide for her and did NOT get diarrhea from eating burned pizza dough because she ONLY ate her own dog food which I gave her as instructed.

7) I slept on your couch and received 22 different bites on my person from some unknown/unseen blood sucking insect that may or may not be bedbugs or mosquitos or fleas or whatever else might be hiding in your couch that is NOT spiders because THAT would be gross.

8) Rosie ate a pair of my socks which have yet to come out her nether region so I'm gonna need to ask you to let me know if those show up. (seriously, those were $4 socks so...)

9) Also, I may have forgotten to flush one (or all) of the toilets before I left (some of which were full when I arrived....no judgement, just sayin).

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

WTF Wednesdays: Why I should not be allowed to talk to children.

Ahhhh, Summer.  The time of year when my sister allows me to take her children out of the house unsupervised.

whoops.

Recently, my 13 year-old nephew and I hopped in the car and began our drive across town.

That's right about where things went....awry.

My nephew spotted a large pick-up truck with a cooler, a chair and a baby stroller strapped to the bed.

Nephew: Hey look at that truck!
Me: What?
Nephew: It has a stroller in the back...that's not very manly.
Me: I don't know...I think that's sexy.  It's very manly to be a good dad....
Nephew: (no response)
Me: Or he's a pedophile and that's gross.
Nephew: What's a pedophile?
Me: someone who abuses children sexually and that's illegal.
Nephew: No, no, no. STOP!
Me: What?
Nephew: Just stop.
Me: How do you not know what a pedophile is? 
Nephew: STOP
Me: Does your mother, like, talk to you at all, EVER?
Nephew: No Mimi...
Me: You're like, thirteen now right?
Nephew: I don't know these things.
Me: Well, that's just weird.
Nephew: NO.  Stop.
Me: Well...
*awkward silence*
Me: I mean, you asked.
Nephew: I know.  I changed my mind.
*longer, even more awkward silence*
Me: I mean, you should know by now not-
Nephew: I know, I know, don't ask Mimi anything. *DRAMATIC, EXASPERATED EYE ROLL*
Me: Whatevs dude.  Don't blame me for pedophilia...

WTF.

Friday, August 9, 2013

Good Luck Unborn Baby...GOOD LUCK.

Dear Future (Hypothetical) Unborn Baby,

YOU ARE FUCKED.

I'm sorry. 

First of all, at this point I'm pretty convinced that I'm going to have to PAY somebody to make you happen and, historically speaking, I've not demonstrated that I'm very good at financial planning so that makes your manifestation slightly less  likely....

Although, in fairness, only a teeny weeny  bit less likely than the traditional manner of procreation (ie; finding a lovely boy to willingly  marry then subsequently impregnate me) which is extremely  unlikely at this point so...I guess, basically...

GOOD LUCK ON YOUR EXISTENCE.

Secondly, I know I'm supposed to be all, like,
 
"oh ovaries, I shall feed you nothing but organic produce and do lots of Yoga and think happy, peaceful thoughts until I am ready to use your follicles!"

Buuuuuut...the truth is I have been drinking way too much wine and eating way too much of the produce that is "on sale" as opposed to that which is labeled "organic" (that is, when i eat produce at ALL as opposed to subsisting exclusively on wine and hummus), so.....OOPS.

Lastly, I suspect there's an undiagnosed "crazy" gene running prominently through our family tree (see here, here and here for examples) sooooo...

Yeah.

Good luck.

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Texty Tuesdays: Firecrotch & Ratchets

Welcome to Texy Tuesdays!  Posts in which I copy onto this here blog actual, REAL text conversations that occurred between myself and my sister, Meg...These conversations are real-despite what you may think after reading them such as, "what?!  THAT didn't happen...and even if it did, there's no way anyone in their RIGHT MIND would post that on the internets for the whole world to read." (that was you talking to yourself in my head)

Well rest assured, dear reader (reader, not READERS because there's only ONE of you that I know of) I am actually not IN my right mind for most of the time.  So there.

The other day I was at my sister's for dinner.  As per usual, the conversation quickly deteriorated.  I have gotten in the habit of recording conversations I have with my sister (and my dad) on my phone when they appear to be headed south. 

On this occasion, I was too drunk to record the whole conversation neglected to record the pre-amble to the conversation, so I was pretty confused when I reviewed my notes prompting the following text exchange:
Me: Can you help me recreate this conversation accurately?  I took the following notes:

Meg: What's a firecrotch?
Me: U don't know what firecrotch means?
Meg: No
Molly (Meg's 14 y/o daughter): She doesn't even know what 'ratchet' means.
Me: What?  How is that possible?
Meg: I don't know.  The kids use it a lot.
Me: They what?!  Why?

Meg: Well, I thought firecrotch was a term for a gay man.  Like the word flamer or something.  Which brought up my apparent ignorance on teen slang which is why I asked why kids referred to themselves as ratchet.  To which you were shocked and appalled that one of my kids rolls with someone who called themselves ratchet.  Whereupon we looked it up and I called the teacher.
Me: OMG.  It's worse than I thought.
Meg: Um, YEAH.
Me: No.  That is NOT the meaning of firecrotch. lol
Meg: Yes.  U clarified for me.  This whole time I thought he was a flaming gay guy.
Me: *sigh* what will we do with you?
Meg: I kno.  I'm hopeless.