Wednesday, April 18, 2012

You can thank me. Less yucky stamps.

I helped in the invention of self adhesive stamps.
Yes, I know, the Internet might make handwritten letters obsolete. But I helped.
One might say that I was the catalyst.

When I was young, my Father would pay bills on Saturday.
He would listen to opera on the classical radio station and sort bills.
I would lay on the floor of his office, conducting the orchestra and awaiting for Dad's call.
"Okay Glynie, you're up."
I would then get up from the shag carpet and start to lick all the stamps and apply them to the bills.
"Blech. daddy this taste awful."
"I agree, that is why you are licking the stamps. I am outsourcing this important duty to you."

So I wrote a letter to the Postmaster General.
I asked him to make chocolate flavored stamps so that my Saturday chore would be less cumbersome.
And he replied.
His response was that he couldn't make chocolate flavored stamps because some might like strawberry or vanilla. So, dear Glynis, I'm sorry you have to lick stamps, but I cannot help you at this time.

One year later... Self adhesive stamps.
I'm just saying...

The Great Popsicle Caper

Me: Babes, you have a Popsicle problem.
Hubs: I'm trading it in for other vices. What? It's just frozen water.
Me: And sugar.
Hubs: You're right. I should just trade them in for heroin.
Me: How would heroin be a good idea over sugar?
Hubs: It wouldn't. But if you don't want me to eat so many Popsicles...
Me: we'll I definitely don't want you to have a heroin problem.
Hubs: So you're okay with the Popsicles then?
Me: (sigh) Ya, I guess.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Music Monday - Feel So Close

I could have gone with the Gotye mashup, since I'm being so pop-on-trend, but I like this video better. That and I'd have "SOMEBODY!" stuck in my head, which is not good.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Sightless in Seattle (Part Two)

(Seattle, continued.)

Hubs and I are holding hands, walking down the street, minding our own business, when OUT OF NO WHERE a violent wind gust comes down and whips a freaking evil tree branch smack into my eyeball. THE TREE BRANCH ATTACKED MY EYEBALL! AROUND MY GLASSES! I immediately cover my eye with my hands and start to whimper.

Hubs: Babes, are you okay?
Me: N-n-n-n-noooo. It hurts. It hurts REAL BAD!
Hubs: Let me see. (I uncover my eye and let him look.) Oh S$%#. Oh F$#*! You're bleeding hon. You are bleeding tears of blood!

I try not to panic.

Hubs grabs my free hand (the other hand back to covering my eye) and we walk a short distance to a hotel. He runs in and asks loudly for a taxi. A dapper fellow comes over and says he can help. Hubs explains the situation and says we need an Emergency Room, STAT! Fellow leads us outside (I'm not really seeing most of this, just holding onto Hubster's hand.) Next thing I know, I'm in a black Lincoln Town Car.

I'm trying not to freak out, but all I'm thinking about is going blind, my eyeball bleeding, I'll never be able to drive again. How will I read? I hate you, Seattle. I'm supposed to be sight-seeing dammit and I CANT SEE!

We get to the Emergency Room and they put me into a wheel chair and whisk me down the hallway. That's when the tears and blubbering begin in earnest. I'm literally losing it. I have no idea what I'm saying. (Hubs says it was pretty incoherent but something about: Owwwies, pain, can't see, and am I on Grey's Anatomy?)

A Doctor rushes into the room and wants me to open my eye to put numbing drops into it. I scream in protest. "NOO! I don't WANNNA!!!" They plead for me to open my eye. I think Hubs finally had to force it open. In go the drops. And. They. HURT! Ohmigod now my eye is BURNING! I think they give me a sedative.

Time passes. Eventually, they open up the eyelid and peer into the cornea. They insert a dye. They scan it in a machine. They make me take an eye test. I'm still whimpering. Hubs says I'm brave. They locate the place where it tore the lower inner lid and the scratch on the cornea. And then the kicker... I hear a conversation between my darling husband and the Doctor.

Hubs: How could this have happened?
Doc: Oh, we see this all the time.
Hubs: What?
Doc: Oh yes, very common in Seattle. The wind, ya know.
Hubs: Can't you send out those Hobos to trim the trees or something FOR (BLEEPING BLEEPITY BLEEP) SAKE?!?! What is WRONG with you people?

They dispatch me with two prescriptions and an order to follow up with my Opthamologist. Nothing to be done but cover the eye and wait for it to heal. The Lincoln Town Car picks us back up and deposits us near the hotel at a drug store. We go inside, but the pharmacy is closed for Easter. The lady at the front gives us an address for a 24 hour pharmacy. We walk ten blocks, realise that we've been going in the wrong direction and walk twenty blocks to the address.

No pharmacy. We see (well, he sees... I'm still one-eye blind) a cop walking into a Starbucks. What are the chances a cop would be walking into a Starbucks in Seattle... I ask you? Cop tells us there's a Walgreens on Pike and 3rd. That's 30 blocks away. No cabs are out, cause it's EASTER, so we have to walk there.

By the time we find it, I'm exhausted, my feet hurt, I can't see, my eyeball is throbbing and I hate Seattle even more than I hate Clown Zombies. AND I HATE CLOMBIES!!! We get the prescriptions (one is for pain: drops right into the eyeball) and I want to kiss the Pharmacist. I believe I offered him my first born.

We walk another ten or so blocks to Hotel Max and pass out. Spending the rest of our weekend in the hotel room until we finally left that godforsaken city and caught a flight back to Dallas. And guess what? On the trip home, I didn't have a window in my aisle... AGAIN! Not that it mattered, I wouldn't have been able to look out of it.

And that, my three readers, is why you should be on the lookout for evil trees.

Sightless in Seattle (Part One)

(Warning: This post contains Evil Trees and Blood)

Hubster and I had some American Airlines points to redeem and decided to visit a city neither of us had been to... Seattle, Washington. We've always wanted to go; with all the rain (which we love), greenery and outdoorsy-ness, liberal mindset of the citizens, and recommendations from friends. In fact, one of Hubs ex-Navy friends lived there and we thought it could be a nice visit after 8 years. Added bonus, I got a two-night room at a swanky, arty, boutique hotel for freesies. Hooray! Off to Seattle we go!

After sending off the boopins to Woofgangs Doggy Day Care (shout out - love you guys) we headed to the airport and boarded the new 7 series. I was promised a window and yet my aisle WAS THE ONLY AISLE ON THE PLANE WITHOUT A WINDOW! Sad. Four hours later we landed in Seattle, took the train to the city and found Hotel Max.

Hotel Max is a fun place. You feel like a Rock Star, or a Roadie with the Band at the least. Each room door has a unique full sized black and white photo, something ... arty. (I'm using arty a lot. I'm tired, sorry.) The guest rooms are small with no bathroom to speak of (a toilet, single sink and shower stall) but comfy sheets on the beds and clean.

So we got all touristy. It was wicked sunny outside and all of Seattle was out on the streets. So much for the promised rain * le sigh *. Met up with Roberta & her boyf. Saw the famous Pike Place Public Market. Wandered the stalls. Bought a few trinkets for the work peeps. Generally enjoyed our afternoon. That evening we had great food, drinks and the rest is none of your bidness.

Next day, we woke up at 6:30am (which felt like sleeping in) and hit the streets. Walking numerous blocks, all we noticed was litter and bums. Litter and bums. Trash on the corners, empty Starbucks cups, paper, waste, unrecognizable materials ... and bums. Versus the day before where there were Street Buskers playing instruments, or magic tricks, or SOME kind of talent for money, today was just homeless people looking for a handout. Did I mention it was PEaster Sunday?

Walking walking walking... we finally got to the Seattle Space Needle. It wasn't open yet, so we decided to re-route and go to the Aquarium

(To be continued)

Monday, April 9, 2012

Not so funny April Fools Day joke

On flight home from Seattle, Hubster decides to tell me a "funny" story about a recent event with one of his friends.

Hubs: So Stacy was coming down on April Fools Day to visit Steven at his house. The guys decide they're going to play a joke on her when she arrives. It's night and she pulls up in the car. She gets out of the car and starts to walk towards the house. So Steven and his friend have on ski masks and one of them grabs her by the arm. The other puts a hand over her mouth, then they pull her into the alley. Then the friend picks up her hair and sniffs it and says "Mmm, this is gonna be a good one tonight.' So then she starts crying and they pull off the masks-"

Me: -What? WTF? Why would they do that!

Hubs: Cause it was funny! As soon as she started crying, they pulled off the masks and said 'Calm down. Calm down. It's just a joke. April Fools.' Besides, she immediately punched Steven and gave him a shiner.

Me: That's not funny. That's freaking scary, she thought she was going to get raped.

Hubs: Why would she think that?

Me: WHAT? Of course she thought she was getting raped. They were wearing masks and pulled her into an alley, then the friend smelled her hair and says 'mmmm, this is gonna be a good one tonight'?? That's messed up.

Hubs: They never said they were going to rape her. They could have been two gay hairstylists.

Me: That's not even logical! Why would a woman think two gay hairstylists would kidnap her in ski masks and pull her into the alley.

Hubs: Well, it's just a little step up from jumping out and saying boo.

Me: No. No. There is QUITE a gap between saying boo and dragging a woman into an alley wearing a ski mask.

(Many hours later. We get home and the argument resurfaces.)

Hubs: Well you need to call someone and get an unbiased opinion. I think it's funny.

Me: Well then let me call Sarah.

Hubs: No, Sarah is squeamish.

Me: How about Devo?

Hubs: No, Devo has a thing about being touched.

Me: Ok fine. Rachel. (Hubs agreed.)

(ring ring. Hi! Pleasantries exchanged. I tell Rachel I need her opinion on whether she thinks something is funny. I tell her the story.

Me: What do you think?

Rach: That's not funny, I would have thought I was being raped.

Me: SEE!!!!

Hubs: No one ever said anything about rape. They could have been two gay hairstylists.

Rach: (fit of laughter) Uh no, that's not funny. It's messed up.

Me: Well, he got his comeuppance. He got punched in the eye.

Rach: I would have done a lot worse, I would have punched him in the balls.

Hubs: Okay, memo to self, NO SKI MASKS.

Monday, April 2, 2012

Three Alternating Innuendos

SETUP: I’m headed back to my cubicle from elsewhere. In one hand, I have a bag from Sprouts full of trail mix. I’m chomping on a Brazil nut and some pumpkin seeds. I see a colleague chatting with a gentleman and leading him into a conference room (it appears to be an interview.) My colleague was not born in the United States; so while she has absolutely superb English, she is also unfamiliar with all our American slaying and statements.

While not eavesdropping, I can’t help but hear her say to the gentleman, “So you must be comfortable pitching a tent then?” The guy turns bright red and appears to stumble a little.

I nearly wee my pants.

She deposits him in the conference room and walks towards me.

Me: Hey, um Bonnie? Do you know what “pitching a tent” means?
Bonnie: Of course I do. He’s an outdoorsman.
Me: Well, right, there’s that. But it also has another meaning.
Bonnie: It does? What?
Me: Er, yes. When young men, um, when they.. um. Like if they get excited and… they … well crumbcake. Okay, if a guy gets an erection in his pants, it’s also called “pitching a tent”.
Bonnie: Oh my word! Okay, thank you for telling me. I’m oh so embarrassed! Should I go say something to him?
Me: No, no. I think it’s fine to just leave it be. (I raise the bag of trail mix from my hand and offer her a grab.) Nuts?
Bonnie: Well now you’re just rubbing it in.

That my friends, is why I love my work days.

Music Monday - Dewolff "Gold & Seaweed"

Dewolff is a funky, trippy, psychodelic, Dutch jam band.

I have a thing for roasted, salted seaweed lately.