My younger daughter does not have the best digestive system. Her pediatrician prescribed a laxative, which we sometimes add to her morning beverage. It is a white, granular substance that we have to measure out, requiring us to keep it in a wide mouth plastic container instead of the bottle it originally came in.
One morning I set out to administer a teaspoon's worth of magic powder when I discovered that we had none left. You'd think I would have noticed that we were running low, but I attributed it to the Huz having given the most recent dose, and me just being a bit of a tool. No biggie. I figured that I'd just pick some up later.
Given that I couldn't help my daughter out in this particular department at that very moment, I turned to my pot of coffee to at least give myself a boost. I added sugar and took a swig.
'It's not sweet' I remarked to myself, feeling somewhat puzzled by this revelation
I added another two teaspoons and tasted it again. Still not sweet!!!???
I gave it another try. NOT SWEET!!!!!!!!
Prior to connecting the dots between the empty laxative container, the full sugar dispenser, the prior day's cleaning lady visit and her strange obsession with organizing my home, I had a somewhat neurotic moment that lasted an entire second:
I can't taste sugar!
I must have had a stroke!
Or maybe I finally destroyed my taste buds with all those ketchup potato chips!
I won't ever be able to enjoy chocolate!
I might lose weight!
But all foods have some sugar! I won't be able to enjoy any foods!
Then I finally clued in.
I now label the laxative container.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Friday, May 3, 2013
Attention K-Mart Shoppers
The theme party that I'll be attending this upcoming week-end has got me thinking. I kind of feel that the 'people of Walmart' are getting a bit of a raw deal. Should our focus only be on those shoppers? Is it just because that Target customers have no devoted web page that we never make fun of the folks over there? I think so! We've got an entire untapped market here to mock.
As a Canadian, I hadn't really given much thought to Target shoppers. The chain only infiltrated Canada a couple of months ago, so we are still at the novelty stage. My local Store took the place of Zellers, which I always likened to Walmart, but without staff. And without customers. And without inventory for that matter. So clearly I was happy for the change.
On my inaugural trip to this store, I found myself in line to pay when I heard an obnoxious woman behind me. "NO DIVIDERS?????", spoke the boisterous, smokers voice that belonged to the next person in line. "A 13 MILLION DOLLAR STORE AND YOU DON'T HAVE ANY DIVIDERS????"
She was referring to the dividers for the conveyor belts at the cash that separate one's order from the next person's. My order was already bagged, and there was no one behind her, so I'm not quite sure what all the fuss was about, but this woman was just livid. Then she made a failed attempt to catch my eye to form some sort of bond with me where I would validate her rage.
"FINE!", she screamed, as I made a 'holy crap' face while entering my PIN number, pretending that she wasn't there.
The next thing I knew, the woman had taken a large handful of gift cards off of the display by the cash, and lined them up on the conveyor belt in place of an obviously 'critical' divider.
I shot the cashier a sympathetic look as I picked up my bags. As she handed me my receipt, she put on a fake plastic smile, and through her teeth whispered, "Don't leave me!!!!!"
As a Canadian, I hadn't really given much thought to Target shoppers. The chain only infiltrated Canada a couple of months ago, so we are still at the novelty stage. My local Store took the place of Zellers, which I always likened to Walmart, but without staff. And without customers. And without inventory for that matter. So clearly I was happy for the change.
On my inaugural trip to this store, I found myself in line to pay when I heard an obnoxious woman behind me. "NO DIVIDERS?????", spoke the boisterous, smokers voice that belonged to the next person in line. "A 13 MILLION DOLLAR STORE AND YOU DON'T HAVE ANY DIVIDERS????"
She was referring to the dividers for the conveyor belts at the cash that separate one's order from the next person's. My order was already bagged, and there was no one behind her, so I'm not quite sure what all the fuss was about, but this woman was just livid. Then she made a failed attempt to catch my eye to form some sort of bond with me where I would validate her rage.
"FINE!", she screamed, as I made a 'holy crap' face while entering my PIN number, pretending that she wasn't there.
The next thing I knew, the woman had taken a large handful of gift cards off of the display by the cash, and lined them up on the conveyor belt in place of an obviously 'critical' divider.
I shot the cashier a sympathetic look as I picked up my bags. As she handed me my receipt, she put on a fake plastic smile, and through her teeth whispered, "Don't leave me!!!!!"
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
When in Doubt, Ask the Experts
Every year I go on a week-end trip with an amazing group of ladies. On the Saturday night of this trip, there is always a theme party. This year's theme is ... People of Walmart!!!!! This is the first year that I've felt inspired enough to participate. So much to work with here!
I have a feeling that I won't exactly be an original given that my outfit is a common variation of showing too much unflattering skin in ill-fitted clothing, but I'm putting some creative energy into it to be somewhat of a stand-out.
After assembling myself in what I believed to be my outfit, I felt somewhat disappointed with my cleavage. On any given day, there is no disappointment in this area, but I was kind of looking for something a little more 'Katy Perry', and less 'middle-aged mother of two'. So I did what anyone would do. I took to the Internet, braving a search that could quite possibly have scarred my innocent little eyes.
My eyes lived to tell the tale, and I am now just a purchase of medical tape away from the look I so desire. And I owe it all to the trannys on YouTube. Thanks guys! You know your stuff!
I have a feeling that I won't exactly be an original given that my outfit is a common variation of showing too much unflattering skin in ill-fitted clothing, but I'm putting some creative energy into it to be somewhat of a stand-out.
After assembling myself in what I believed to be my outfit, I felt somewhat disappointed with my cleavage. On any given day, there is no disappointment in this area, but I was kind of looking for something a little more 'Katy Perry', and less 'middle-aged mother of two'. So I did what anyone would do. I took to the Internet, braving a search that could quite possibly have scarred my innocent little eyes.
My eyes lived to tell the tale, and I am now just a purchase of medical tape away from the look I so desire. And I owe it all to the trannys on YouTube. Thanks guys! You know your stuff!
Friday, November 2, 2012
Another Reason to Ignore My Kitchen
This week, my 7yo daughter asked me to make baked goods for her school's Halloween party. I have done this for school parties in the past, which is kind of ironic, given that I am not really the Suzie Homemaker kind of a mom. My daughter loves offering the goods to her class though, so I continue to bake, if for no other reason but to bask in the mommy-ness of the task.
I was hoping to get out of cookie duty this year but on the morning of the party, my daughter freaked out on me for not having made anything. Being the sucker nice mom that I am, I sent her off to school with the promise that I would make cookies that morning, and bring them to the office at her school before her party started.
The cookies had to be nut-free of course, but also egg free for this particular class. I, Super mom, made cookies like mad that morning. I ran out to the store for ingredients and churned out a few trays of cookies that had to be cooled down and delivered before noon that same day.
Wow, I thought to myself, praising my awesomeness.
Once I got to the school office, I explained to the secretary why I was delivering the cookies. She asked me if we had any peanut butter in the house, to which I replied 'yes', but didn't think it relevant since the jar had not been opened in over a week prior to this baking session.
Not good enough apparently. My cookies were denied!
Still not wanting to disappoint my daughter, I ran over to the grocery store and found some boring shortbread cookies that were free of offending nuts and eggs. She was apparently happy with this.
So the bad news is obvious. The good news: No more baking! Woot!
Thursday, November 1, 2012
No Faux Good Deed Goes Unpunished
Today I rescued a lost dog. He wasn't actually lost as it turned out, but he was alone in the ravine, covered in burrs when I stumbled upon him while walking my own dog. It was easy enough to put a leash on him, so I walked him up to my house and called the number on the dog tag.
After reuniting the dog with his owner who was doing maintenance on a nearby golf course, I bragged to my neighbor that God was definitely going to look after me for the rest of the day.
Maybe that only works after rescuing a dog that is genuinely lost.
After being out and about for most of the day, I returned home to find that my dog had had explosive diarrhea all over my kitchen floor. I'm talking EXPLOSIVE! There was more brown, watery crap in my kitchen than actual visible floor!
I glamorously cleaned that up while a construction crew in my back yard pretended not to watch. At least the guys in the yard didn't have to watch me clean up the dog vomit that ensued in the living room about 15 minutes later. They did however catch a glimpse of me cleaning up my younger daughter whose nose started bleeding profusely at about the same time for no good reason whatsoever!
Exasperated, I shouted out to the guys in the back yard "for the love of God, could there be any more disgusting substances for me to clean up today!???"
They all smirked.
Awesome.
After reuniting the dog with his owner who was doing maintenance on a nearby golf course, I bragged to my neighbor that God was definitely going to look after me for the rest of the day.
Maybe that only works after rescuing a dog that is genuinely lost.
After being out and about for most of the day, I returned home to find that my dog had had explosive diarrhea all over my kitchen floor. I'm talking EXPLOSIVE! There was more brown, watery crap in my kitchen than actual visible floor!
I glamorously cleaned that up while a construction crew in my back yard pretended not to watch. At least the guys in the yard didn't have to watch me clean up the dog vomit that ensued in the living room about 15 minutes later. They did however catch a glimpse of me cleaning up my younger daughter whose nose started bleeding profusely at about the same time for no good reason whatsoever!
Exasperated, I shouted out to the guys in the back yard "for the love of God, could there be any more disgusting substances for me to clean up today!???"
They all smirked.
Awesome.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
The Average Person Spends 16 Minutes a Day Looking for Things
Last year when I got my current car, I had a hitch receiver installed such that I could attach my bike rack to it. The car was fitted to receive a 2" hitch, but my bike rack has a 1-1/4" insert on it, so the hitch people gave me an adapter piece and sent me on my merry way.
When the huz and I set out for a morning of biking one day last summer, the adapter piece was nowhere to be found. This of course prompted a futile, frustrating, search. Then I convinced myself that I had left the adapter piece attached to the car without a fastener, which would have resulted in said adapter plunking out on a highway somewhere, wreaking havoc on someone else's vehicle upon their driving over it. I've experienced some guilt about that.
Since the hitch store was out of the way, we ended up removing the children's car seats, folding down the actual car seats, removing the front wheels from the bikes, and stuffing our bike pieces into the hatchback in a way that prompts people to buy bike racks to avoid such hassle. We did this several times since I could never seem to remember to go buy a new adapter.
Nonetheless, I have always found myself scanning the interior of my garage, looking for that piece of black metal, 2" square by 4" long. Or 6" long depending on who you ask.
Finally, just last week, I remembered to go to the hitch store and buy a new adapter. I paid my $45, and was handed the adapter in a small white box.
This morning I decided to take the bikes in for a tune up since we could now use the rack to drive to the repair shop. I grabbed the adapter from the small white box that was sitting top of a crate in the garage, and used it to install the bike rack onto the car. Then I noticed another small white box sitting on the passenger seat inside my car.
Huh?
Oh...
Shit.
Had I actually known that all along I should have been looking for a small white box instead of a small piece of black metal, I'm pretty sure I would have found it a year ago with absolutely no effort. And I'd be $45 richer. And their would be fewer scuff marks inside my car...
When the huz and I set out for a morning of biking one day last summer, the adapter piece was nowhere to be found. This of course prompted a futile, frustrating, search. Then I convinced myself that I had left the adapter piece attached to the car without a fastener, which would have resulted in said adapter plunking out on a highway somewhere, wreaking havoc on someone else's vehicle upon their driving over it. I've experienced some guilt about that.
Since the hitch store was out of the way, we ended up removing the children's car seats, folding down the actual car seats, removing the front wheels from the bikes, and stuffing our bike pieces into the hatchback in a way that prompts people to buy bike racks to avoid such hassle. We did this several times since I could never seem to remember to go buy a new adapter.
Nonetheless, I have always found myself scanning the interior of my garage, looking for that piece of black metal, 2" square by 4" long. Or 6" long depending on who you ask.
Finally, just last week, I remembered to go to the hitch store and buy a new adapter. I paid my $45, and was handed the adapter in a small white box.
This morning I decided to take the bikes in for a tune up since we could now use the rack to drive to the repair shop. I grabbed the adapter from the small white box that was sitting top of a crate in the garage, and used it to install the bike rack onto the car. Then I noticed another small white box sitting on the passenger seat inside my car.
Huh?
Oh...
Shit.
Had I actually known that all along I should have been looking for a small white box instead of a small piece of black metal, I'm pretty sure I would have found it a year ago with absolutely no effort. And I'd be $45 richer. And their would be fewer scuff marks inside my car...
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Because Everyone Should have an Embarrassing Fifty Shades Story
I resisted reading the Fifty Shades series, not because I was put off by the erotic nature of the books, but because the media had coined the series, 'mommy porn', which sounded about as sexy as oatmeal to me. The summer TV schedule, however, had me looking around for alternate forms of entertainment one night, leading me to a copy of the first book of the series that my mom had cast off to me. FYI, being given second-hand 'mommy porn' by one's own mother is also not terribly enticing.
Walking through Costco a few days later, I noticed that they carried the other two books from the trilogy at a good price. I understand that I could have downloaded the e-book versions for free, but I am still a fan of paper, and the books were right there, so I threw them in the cart.
At the check-out, as with any Costco I have been in, there was an employee stacking each person's order onto the conveyor belt, ensuring that the line moved quickly. He piled my order quite high so as to leave space for the next person's order. The books were on top, and I admittedly bothered to turn them face-down to avoid possible embarrassment.
The conveyor belt lurched forward as the cashier scanned items for the man in front of me, causing one of the books to slide off of my pile of goods, and over the scanner. The man in front of me with the mullet and beer shirt now had my pornographic novel itemized on his receipt. The cashier quickly remedied the situation, and I grinned, imagining this man explaining to his significant other why it appeared that he made an attempt to purchase that particular book.
The man then grinned at me, and commented that his wife was currently reading the same series. "Oh... well... hopefully that's working out well for you.", I muttered, while looking down at my feet, wondering why I don't seem to have a filter that prevents me from saying such things to strange men at check-outs.
I just kept willing for the line to move faster so the man in front of me would leave. I could imagine what he might have been thinking, and I didn't want to continue to stand there, watching him possibly think it.
Finally he was on his way to the parking lot, leaving me to regain my composure. Then the matronly looking woman behind me tapped me on the shoulder and asked, "Is it a worthwhile read? What's it about?"
E-books. I get it now.
Walking through Costco a few days later, I noticed that they carried the other two books from the trilogy at a good price. I understand that I could have downloaded the e-book versions for free, but I am still a fan of paper, and the books were right there, so I threw them in the cart.
At the check-out, as with any Costco I have been in, there was an employee stacking each person's order onto the conveyor belt, ensuring that the line moved quickly. He piled my order quite high so as to leave space for the next person's order. The books were on top, and I admittedly bothered to turn them face-down to avoid possible embarrassment.
The conveyor belt lurched forward as the cashier scanned items for the man in front of me, causing one of the books to slide off of my pile of goods, and over the scanner. The man in front of me with the mullet and beer shirt now had my pornographic novel itemized on his receipt. The cashier quickly remedied the situation, and I grinned, imagining this man explaining to his significant other why it appeared that he made an attempt to purchase that particular book.
The man then grinned at me, and commented that his wife was currently reading the same series. "Oh... well... hopefully that's working out well for you.", I muttered, while looking down at my feet, wondering why I don't seem to have a filter that prevents me from saying such things to strange men at check-outs.
I just kept willing for the line to move faster so the man in front of me would leave. I could imagine what he might have been thinking, and I didn't want to continue to stand there, watching him possibly think it.
Finally he was on his way to the parking lot, leaving me to regain my composure. Then the matronly looking woman behind me tapped me on the shoulder and asked, "Is it a worthwhile read? What's it about?"
E-books. I get it now.
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