Was That a Bad Word?

An excerpt from an actual conversation here at Blognut Manor:


Mr. Blognut: Did you just say genitals?

Girl #2: YES!

Mr. Blognut: Don't use that foul language! Just say BALLS.


I truly love Mr. Blognut!

Instruments of Torture?

This morning I was upstairs in my bathroom getting ready for work when I heard both of my dogs start barking and running back and forth. Normally this behavior is reserved for important things like doorbells, or TV shows with doorbell sounds, or anything else in the world that makes a sound even remotely similar to that of a doorbell.

Since it was about 7am, I muttered something like WTF under my breath, and then went into the hallway to yell at my dogs. But I didn’t yell at them. Once I understood the situation, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I very well understand their reaction to the goings on at Blognut Manor this morning.

The Boy.

The Boy was practicing his recorder.

Now I demand to know: WHAT is the educational requirement being fulfilled by teaching my 4th grader to play the recorder? How will this help him later in life?

Are there teachers hanging out in the lounge at school laughing at the tortured parents? I can hear it now. “Did you see that crazy-eyed parent with both hands over her ears, Bill?” “Yeah, yeah, that was a good one. Whatd’ya say we give ‘em one more week of Hot Cross Buns? I think we can break ‘em all down.”

I have just one comment for them: WHAT ABOUT THE DOGS? DID YOU EVEN THINK OF THE DOGS? It’s inhumane. They’re afraid. They’re begging me to let them out and never let them back in. They’re even quivering in their unrestful sleep.

But I must admit that I have to admire The Boy’s dedication to mastering Hot Cross Buns, which, as I recall, has about 17 notes in it. Because if that child makes a mistake on note number 16, it’s back to the beginning with it; no one can move until he has played it straight through, error-free. At last count, that takes only 26 attempts, so we’re getting there. Right? This is progress? Purple Jumping Jesus! Please tell me this will be over soon.

The only reason I haven’t snapped that friggin’ recorder in two is because, once you have listened to all 26 verses of Hot Cross Buns, and you tell The Boy that he did a great job and he’s really got something going on there, you get this beaming grin of pride that seems to shock your body and stop the flow of blood pouring from your ears. This IS good, right?

Now if you’ll excuse me, I really need to go find those aspirin.

The Plan is NOT That Difficult

Dear Bumblefuck Bank & Trust,

WTF, man?! You’ve been expecting too much lately and I don’t think you understand one of the key personality traits of blognuts. Dude, we are lazy. Well, we at least try to be, anyway. I don’t know how you’ve missed that over the years, but it’s high time you got this straight.

My plan is simple. Try to follow along: I come to work. I turn on my office stereo. I get some coffee (where ‘get some coffee’ means I wait for someone else to make it, and then I pour myself a cup). I make a list of things to trick someone into doing for me. I pull some files out of a drawer and set them on my desk. I open one to something that looks complicated and important-y. I juggle my bouncy balls. I play with my bubbles. I get more coffee. I move some of my files from one side of my desk to the other so it looks like I’m making progress. I read some blogs. I eat lunch. I make some photocopies of nothing so it looks like I accomplished something; sometimes I even use colored paper so it looks pretty and even more important-y. I drink Diet Pepsi. I surf the web. I pack up my files and put them back in the drawer. I go home.

Sounds pretty simple, right? That is because it IS simple if you stick to the plan. Stick to the plan!!!

All this bullshit about regulators coming in two weeks, and the piles of work that need to be done to prepare for them, and finalizing the budget, and laying out project plans, and setting up new products on the system do NOT fit into my plan. You are ruining my dream job and this will not do!

All that crap you try to feed me about taking pride in my work, and having a sense of accomplishment at the end of the day? I totally understand! It’s just that I am a really nice person who puts the needs of others before herself. Why would I want to rob my fellow bankers of the opportunity to take pride in my work and feel a sense of accomplishment for doing my work for me? That would be selfish.

I AM JUST LOOKING OUT FOR THEM!

So here’s the deal. It's Monday and I’m giving you the opportunity to right your wrongs. This is our chance at a fresh start. Don’t ask me what I’m doing in my office, and don’t be trying to give me any work. Do we understand each other?

Sincerely,
blognut

This One IS Gonna Work!

I’m trying yet another new-fangled diet scheme, but I think this one might work. Finally. This one might actually work.

Now before you go getting all judge-y, I want you to keep an open mind and hear me out.

What?

Don’t bring up the time I bought those ridiculous patches that stuck on my skin like a band-aid with superglue. Come on! We all got a good laugh when I yanked the patch off and removed 14 layers of my skin along with it. Besides, my fuzzy, blue fur has almost grown back to the point where you can hardly tell it happened.

Or that time when I bought those diet pills on the internet and turned into an over-emotional, hyperactive, angry two-year-old on crack.

Or those diet cereal bars that filled my guts full of rocket fuel while simultaneously plugging up my pooper. THAT was really uncomfortable and I totally learned my lesson.

THIS ONE IS DIFFERENT!



How long do you think I have keep him in my fridge?

Pardon Me, I Think You Forgot Your Fox

Umm... I wasn't going to bring this up, but DID SOMEBODY LOSE A FRIGGIN' FOX? 'Cause there's one wandering around in the yard here at Blognut Manor and I think this is NOT meant to be a domestic pet. In fact, I think this is meant to be a scary, outdoor, nature beast. I mean, I dunno, really, but I've never actually heard that foxes(?), foxeses, foxai, feese, ahem, foxes make good pets.

But, I was curious, so I asked if he would wait while I ran to get my camera and he was kind enough to give me a wink and take a seat on the driveway until I returned.
And then I figured since he was being all cooperative-like, he might be a nice fox and I should rethink the whole, Do foxes make good pets? question. He seemed kinda huggable at that point, you know? I thought about letting my dogs out to interview him in hopes we'd all agree that Mr. Fox could move right in to Blognut Manor with us...


...but it was not to be. You know why? 'Cause the little demon dropped the cute 'n cuddly act and started looking at me like I was some sort of fuzzy, blue steak.

No, no, Mr. Fox, we mustn't eat blognuts. Blognuts are NOT fox chow.

I Belong To a Group... or Two... or Ten

I’ll admit it; I’ve been spending too much time on Facebook and neglecting my blog. Although, in my own defense, I didn’t have much time for either this past week.

I’ve found that Facebook is like group therapy or something. There’s a support group for everything! How friggin’ cool is that?!

I joined a group where a bunch of people understand how much I hate it when one string of my hoodie becomes longer than the other. And imagine how much less alone in the world I felt when I found the group for people who understand that no matter how hot it is, I can’t sleep unless a little piece of blanket is on me? FINALLY!!! Someone gets me!

Of course I also joined a group called Bacon, and honestly, who wouldn’t love that group? Bacon is good and it goes with everything. I shouldn’t forget to tell you about the group I found for people like me who are ready to admit that when we were younger, we put our face next to the fan to hear our robot voice. Totally. I’m waiting for the adult support group on that, too, ‘cause I kinda still do that when no one is looking. What? It’s fun!

Of course I also joined Mom’s Who Drink and Swear, and Whatever I Did When I Was Drunk Didn’t Happen if I Can’t Remember It. Shut up! It’s only fair. I hate it when other people have to remind me of things and it shouldn’t count if I can’t remember it. It’s not like I was so drunk I wore crocs or anything. Oh, sorry. You might like those things, but in the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that I am a card-carrying member of a group that doesn’t care how comfortable crocs are, because we think you look like a dumbass in ‘em anyway. I’m in another fashion-conscious group that stands firmly on the belief that leggings are not a substitute for pants. We are right about that, you know?

I also joined I Wait Until the Last Second to Pee. However, if I ever attend an in-person meeting for that group, I will make sure I don’t drink anything because we can’t all run for the bathroom at the last second, can we? There’s bound to be an issue with that.

And, because I’m a little like Marcia Brady when she first started high school and joined all those clubs, I joined Sarcasm Society, Stop Being an Ass Hat, OMG STFU Already, and Procrastinators Unite… Tomorrow.

Do you think I should join I Have a Group Joining Problem, too? Tell me honestly.

Positively Wednesday

Instead of doing a Wednesday post where I complain about things and say “WTF!” a lot, I’m going to do something different. I’m going to stay positive and try to be nice. What? SHUT UP! I said I was going to be nice.

I’m going to tell you about things that make blognuts happy and you are going to like it whether you want to or not, because if you are rude to me when I’m being all nice-y and stuff, I will get mad and then I won’t be able to stay nice. Got it? No, that was not a run-on sentence. Why ya’ gotta be all judge-y and critical today?

Here we go, in no particular order:

- Diet Pepsi. You knew this already, but I like it. About twelve times a day. It’s worth mentioning again.

- I like seeing people stumble and then try to act like they did it on purpose. Right. Doesn’t everyone walk around “pretending” to almost fall?

- Walking around the mall pretending to almost fall. Wait! What?

- The looks on my dogs’ faces when I stare at them and then tip my head sideways like I’m contemplating them. This seems to blow their little canine minds.

- Overhearing my son pretending to audition for American Idol. Trust me, he only makes it to Hollywood in his mind, but it cracks me up anyway.

- Bank examiners. Oh wait! That’s not true. Unless they’re dead. Then I like them just fine.

- Speaking/Writing in fragments. Don’t know why. Just do.

- Being fuzzy and blue.

- Smoothies. I love them even though I never thought I’d like them. Just the sound of the blender and knowing they’re in there makes me happy.

- Mr. Blognut, the blognutians, and warm, fuzzy friends. But not in a blender or anything. Just next to me.

- Pay day. I love it real big.

- Finishing lists.

Okay, now I’ll go post this on the ‘fridge or somewhere obvious so I can view this inspirational list of happy things throughout the day and not get sucked into the drain of negativity.

Ode to Winter...

I found this beautiful winter poem and thought it might be of some comfort to those of you enduring single-digit temperatures this week.

It's very well written and I hope that you enjoy it as much as I did.

" WINTER "

by Abigail Elizabeth McIntyre

Shit! It's Cold!

The End.

I'm a Fashion Trendsetter!

Did I mention that I kinda hate to shop? Rare is the day that I wander off to the mall and try on “fun” outfits the way I used to, and I’m wondering if it’s because I’m just not “fun” anymore.

It’s gotten so bad that I actually run out on my lunch hour when I really need something, so that I can avoid the crowds and be “in and out” in no time. What am I? 100?

And like any good geriatric shopper worth her salt, I hardly even bother to try on my purchases. Know why? Because I am THAT boring. I know what size I wear and I generally know what styles will work for me. Likely as not, I’m simply replacing some important staple in my wardrobe of banker costumes, such as a white blouse. Be still, my fashion-drenched heart!

And so it is that when I am in need of something less work-y and more “fun,” I find myself dreading the whole shopping experience because I may have to break down and try on something before I can buy it.

No good can come of this! I will either find something I like and buy it in every imaginable color so that I can spend the rest of the season running around looking like a Gap commercial, or I will learn the hard way that NOTHING FUN FITS ME and wallow in round, blue-bodied depression the rest of the day.

But wait! There is hope! I have an idea and I think it’s something you all should seriously consider before you shoot it down, okay? This will work if we do it together, but if we have one dissenter, the plan is shot to hell.

We should break down the fashion circus and agree on a simple uniform of sorts. This way we'll all be "in" and we can take the stress and guesswork out of shopping while preserving our right to good comfortable clothing that doesn't hug curves we'd rather not mention. Not a burka, by any stretch, but a comfortable, cheerful hoodie sweatshirt. Here’s my suggestion:



What? It’s GENIUS and you know it!

If we're all wearing it, you never have to worry about showing up anywhere under-dressed again. And really? You have to admit there's something kinda familiar and cute about this shirt.

It's Never Going to Work Out

So… this whole working out at the gym thing? Is for the birds.

I am a bundle of raw ouch.

See, I went back to the gym and I’ve been faithful for days. I tell you I am the very picture of dedication. (SHUT UP! I CAN TOTALLY HEAR YOU!) I’d started running again at home on the treadmill, but it isn’t the same as going to the gym and having to push yourself a little harder ‘cause people are looking, you know? Looking can be a good thing in small doses.

Only now I’m in trouble because I threatened to poke out somebody’s eyes for looking because she didn’t understand the whole “small doses” thing. I think people should adopt some sort of exercise etiquette and not be looking at me when I run and lift weights. That’s all I’m sayin’, but we’ll see what the membership review committee has to say about it.

Another problem? The whole ouchy thing. I may or may not have been reading a book written by that Evil-Ripped-Alien-She-Devil of a person who may or may not have been a part of that TV show where all us bulky people go on national TV and bare our souls as well as most of our bodies. You know who I mean? (Yes, Chris. I still have your book from, like, two years ago, and I have no idea what sort of cupcake-y looking food item is smeared on page 33, but I’ll try to get it off, ‘k?)

I am here to tell you that the Evil-Ripped-Alien-She-Devil is a sadistic bitch. First of all, she says in her book that stealing owning her book is not enough. She says you have to actually COMMIT to her exercise plan and do exactly what she has written. Hellooo! I do not even know what she is asking me to do, much less have the flexibility to bend my furry, blue body into those positions. And what the hell is a plank, anyway? You want me to balance on my what? Is that even possible?

Anyway, that Evil-Ripped-Alien-She-Devil is going to hurt you and smile while she is doing it. Do not borrow her book from your friend and never give it back buy her book unless you want to find yourself walking like a naughty cowboy and barely able to lift your arms up high enough to wash your hair.

That’s my advice. I am always looking out for you.

Some Things Will Never Change

I think I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that I don’t really do the resolution thing, although I do try to chart some sort of course and head in that general direction most of the time. (Where “most of the time” means when I think of it, or when I’m not ticked off about having to do it, or when I feel like it.)

Then I came across Lisa’s blog post about the things she has no intention of changing in 2010 and I thought to myself, “Self, (because that’s what I call myself), you can totally commit to NOT CHANGING!” Hell yes, I can! That Lisa is a friggin’ genius!

So here are some of the things I have no intention of working on or changing in 2010:

I will continue to be intolerant of people who are willfully stupid.

I will continue to freak out if I get a wrinkle in my sock and I will sit down wherever I happen to be to straighten it out right away. I will also continue to differentiate between the right sock and the left sock to reduce the occurrence of these annoying sock wrinkles.

I will continue to subconsciously count the number of times a person overuses words like like, whatever, and you know, when speaking to me.

I will continue to insist that the stereo volume in my car be set to some multiple of 3.

I will continue to wince in pain whenever I am forced to walk behind someone with visible panty lines. To that end, (heh, “end”), I will continue to prefer thongs on my furry, blue ass - as I truly believe this gets to the bottom of the problem. (Heh, “bottom”.)

I will continue to be immature and laugh at my own butt jokes.

I will continue to be distracted by shiny things... constantly.

I will continue to leave things until the last minute, operating under the delusion that I function better under that kind of pressure.

I will continue to forget to renew my license plate stickers until well past the due date so I can spend quality time with local law enforcement officers who have nothing better to do than pick on me when I was just minding my own business and driving safely along in an unhurried fashion in a car that was mostly compliant anyway. Bastards.

I will continue to ramble mindlessly, occasionally forgetting to arrive back at the original point I was trying to make.

Assuming I had a point in the first place.