Category Archives: Sarcasm

How I’m Rolling Write Now: Breaks and Distractions

Somewhere between starting to write the first (of hopefully many) blog posts for my work’s website, reading and commenting on other blogger’s posts, and well, just the normal busyness of summer (please know I am not complaining here), I decided to take a week off from publishing a blog post.

Sorta like (ok, not really) the youths that had community service hours to complete at my food bank, who I found sipping lemonade in the staff break room a couple of weeks ago. These two pubescent boys had put in approximately 52 minutes of “work” (aka putting plastic grocery bags in their receptacles and a small bit of re-stocking shelves) and informed me they were “on break”.

I am not the supervisor so I chose not to tell them that this was not an “authorized” break and they needed to get back into the food bank and break down those damn boxes.

This is probably not the sort of anecdote to include on the work blog. Snark has no place there.

Okay, so back to the original point of this post. What did I do during this break?

Well, quite a bit of pondering. And writing in dribs and drabs. That’s kind of how I work with this blogging thing of mine. I sneak a few moments here and there and write a few words. I wish I had a whole day to do this though. I have this image of myself pounding away, fully bereft of a sense of time and possibly place, penning post after post after post. Banking them, if you will. Which is what my boss’s boss wants me to do with the work blog.

Wish me luck.

But I’m so prone to distraction. Radar is a major distraction for me. And it’s not because he’s continuously nudging my arms with his wet nose as I’m typing or that he’s ripping the house apart (though he’s fond of using the bath mat as a chew toy when I’m not paying attention). It’s because I want to be a great dog parent (I almost typed “owner” but that just seems wrong to me. He’s not my slave, after all. Not like I’m expecting him to make dinner for us or anything. Can you imagine?). But I digress. I did mention that I’m prone to distraction, correct? Bottom line-I believe he deserves as much care and attention as I can possibly give him, don’t you all agree?

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I will soon have a spate of days where I’ll be the only human in my house. Hubs has a work trip then shortly after that, he’ll be flying to Wisconsin to help his parents with home repairs. This will be my time. My time to 1) edit my blog’s draft folder (so much in the hopper, people!),  2) write like the fiend I am and 3) finally update my vision board.

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I will of course, during this time, catch up on my favorite shows (you know, the ones Hubs does not appreciate). Like finishing where I left off on the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. Finally watching “Wine Country” on Netflix (highly recommended to me by Spawn #2 plus it’s an Amy Poehler creation!). Season 9 of Shameless (gotta keep up with the godforsaken Gallagher’s).

May my t.v. watching not become too big a distraction.

But writing during this time will be my #2 priority after Radar.

Wish me luck!

A supposedly simple trip to Target

Like everyone and their brother (and sister, and second cousin twice removed and ex-mother in law and all their old high school friends), I ventured out for a Target run on Saturday morning.

I was thoroughly enjoying myself. I picked up the cutest summer tank top; navy blue with little pineapples sprinkled all over it. It was $9 on the clearance rack. I couldn’t resist.

I waltzed through the aisles, enjoying some “me” time, congratulating myself in my head over the smart purchases I was making.

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Then, as I was about to open up the freezer door to procure the Cool Whip needed to make what Hubs refers to as my “Boob Cake” (explanation and recipe will be found at the end of this post), which was to be shared at a BBQ with church members that evening, I was approached by a bespectacled woman with jet black hair in her 60’s who announced that she and her friend were with the “Church of God”. I told her curtly that I had my own church, thankyouverymuch. That shut her up right quick.

In retrospect, I should have retorted that I in fact was a member of the “Church of Satan”. You know, just to see the look on her face.

As I proceeded to gather the rest of the items on my shopping list, I found myself seething about this interaction. I went from ” I ought to notify Target management that these church people are accosting random shoppers” to “this is precisely what turns people off to church/religion”, to “how condescending that this woman would presume that I am not an upstanding church member and Christian”?

So there went my Target shopping buzz.

Once all my items were in my cart, I moseyed over to one of the checkout lines. I’m thinking to myself “it feels so oddly quiet and still. And why are the lines so freaking long?”. I was informed by the woman in front of me that there had just been an announcement that all of the registers were down. Uggh.

So while processing this information and determining what choices I could/should make in this situation, my eye catches a cool looking Led Zeppelin t-shirt worn by a slightly disheveled looking middle aged guy with glasses. He then turns his back to me.

You know how in public sometimes, you happen upon men (and sometimes women, to be fair) who have chosen to wear ill-fitting pants? Like saggy-ass pants hung low enough to see a little crack?

Well, this guy went above and beyond in the saggy-ass category. His entire,  bare, mind you-as in Full Commando, skinny ass was on full display. And it appeared to have a rash on it. He didn’t pull up his drawers for a full 3 seconds, so that is how I was able to ascertain that he is in need of some diaper rash ointment. Perhaps that is what he had in his bucket.

Wow. Just wow. Right?

Then a young female Target employee notified all of us that complimentary Starbucks was available for the taking and that they would save our filled shopping carts for up to two days. I opted to abandon my cart and head to the Starbucks inside the store. The line, of course, was far too long to justify a free Chocoloco latte chai frappe cappucino, so I headed out and purchased my grocery items at the Sprouts next door.

Now that the sheer horror of the downed registers has passed, I will be making a quick trip to Target in the next couple of days.

God, I hope that damn pineapple shirt is there waiting for me.

Strawberry Banana Marquise (aka Boob cake):

Quick story about this, my favorite favorite summer dessert: I found the recipe online eons ago and printed it out. First time I made it, I marveled at how pretty it looked, what with the fluffy white Cool Whip covering the mound of angel food cake/vanilla pudding/bananas combo with a whole strawberry perched on top of it. Hubs advised me it looked like a big white boob. Hardy Har har.

Here’s the recipe:

Keep in mind the whole process, start to finish, takes about 4 1/2 hours!

Ingredients:

1 12-16 oz. prepared angel food cake

2 cups sliced strawberries (plus 9 whole strawberries for garnish)

1/2 cup strawberry preserves

1  3.4 oz. package instant vanilla pudding mix

1 1/4 cup skim milk

2 ripe bananas

1  12 oz. container Cool Whip

Line a 3 qt. bowl with plastic wrap. Slice the cake into 20 pieces. In a small bowl, combine the sliced strawberries with the strawberry preserves and set aside.

In a medium bowl, prepare the pudding according to package directions-but only use 1 1/4 cup milk, stirring until the pudding thickens. Fold in 2 cups of the Cool Whip; refrigerate the rest.

Slice the bananas into the strawberry mixture and stir well to coat them.

Cover the bottom of the lined bowl with 4-5 cake slices. Cover with half  of the strawberry-banana mixture and spread evenly. Cover with half of the pudding mixture and spread that evenly. Add a layer of cake slices (maybe 7), pressing lightly. Repeat layers of strawberry-banana mixture and pudding mixture. Finish with a last layer of about 8 cake slices, pressing lightly. Wrap bowl in plastic and refrigerate at least 4 hours.

Just before serving, remove outer plastic wrap and cover bowl with serving plate and invert. Remove bowl and plastic wrap. Frost with remaining Cool Ship. Slice the remaining strawberries in half lengthwise and space evenly around the bottom of the finished marquise. Slice to serve.

 

Silly signs on Saturday

Nowadays, home decor is all about the signs. Signs with pithy inspirational quotes. Signs with family names on them. Signs expressing the homeowner’s faith.  I think oftentimes signs as home decor are overdone.  It seems to me that the more signs one has on their walls, the less meaning they have. So I keep mine to a minimum for that reason.

This one is probably my favorite:

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Hanging in my kitchen to amuse one and all

A foray into Google images for signs led me to some more amusing and in some cases, disturbing signs.

Like this one:

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So many questions here….walruses can jump? And exactly how does one determine the sexual orientation of a walrus? And what does the walrus’s sexual orientation have to do with the fact that it might jump up and drag you under the water to be feasted on by a gaggle of hangry walruses?

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Um, no thanks Hardee’s.

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This is the sign that I will hang in our future cabin. I find it to be quite motivational.

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This would make me shake in my boots for sure (not)…but I’m also super curious about what is behind this door. I doubt I’d be able to resist the temptation to exit through that particular door.

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TMI dudes…and you should really get that checked out!images (64)

Apparently, beans and cabbage are on the menu in this joint.

 

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Good advice, peeps!

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Thank you, Captain Obvious.

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Let’s hope to God that this isn’t the only dentist in town.

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I took a picture of this sign on a trip with Hubs to Florida, because I thought it was hilariously awesome. I’d really like to know how one qualifies a a “fancy woman”. And exactly who decides who is a “fancy woman” anyhow? Cap’n Crunch?!

Happy Saturday folks!

 

Amusing myself in AARP land

Full disclosure: I am an overthinker. And very likely too hard on myself. I confess this today after coming to the conclusion that writing is actually hard. I had every intention yesterday of publishing a truly epic post, only to find myself completing approximately 70% of a moderately humorous and mostly lame essay.

I jazzed up one other post that I had in my draft folder as well, but it didn’t meet my standards of publishability. Yes, I may have just made up a new word. 

Of course, I just had to google the word publishability and of course it is a legit word. No matter.  I have also come to the conclusion this week that the most beneficial thing I can do to harness whatever creative writing abilities I possess, is something. As in, don’t just plop your arse down in front of the computer and force yourself to write something, anything, just so you can give yourself a high five that you continued your blog for yet another day. As it turns out, writing doesn’t work that way.

So I actually did some stuff this morning. Not a lot of stuff, mind you. But stuff, nonetheless.

I checked off one of my to-do list items. I wrote a check and filled out a form to claim my new, free duffel bag from AARP. Which means I am now officially a member of the Advanced Age Restless Party. Take that, those of you under 50! Ha!

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Oh, the irony of this sarcastic comment!

All I had to do was put a stamp on it and then send it on it’s merry way. I recalled recently locating a book of stamps I purchased at the post office in one of the zippered pouches of my trusty black Baggallini purse. I also recall thinking to myself let’s put those here where they will be handy when I need them. 

The only problem is the “here” is nowhere to be found. And of course since I’m thisclose to being a member of  the exclusive AARP club, I cannot recall for the life of me where precisely that “here” is. I’ve searched high and low-in other purses, in my small filing cabinet next to the computer desk. No stamps to be found. Not. A. One.

Those darn stamps are bound to turn up somewhere at some point in time, right? The most likely scenario, however, is that the moment I arrive home from purchasing a new book of stamps they will magically appear. Just like that belt I forgot I bought after buying the exact same one at Target last week.

So after this kerfuffle, I decided to do something else. Something challenging but entirely irrelevant and self-serving. Something to divert my attention from the reality that I have indeed lodged myself firmly into AARP land. As I said in a very recent post, one of my life goals is to be able to successfully sing all the lyrics to R.E.M.’s “It’s The End Of The World” song. I found the lyrics on Google Play, then put this song on play on my tablet.

All I can say is that I was all kinds of happy when I got to the main chorus of “It’s the end of the world as we know it” (times 3) then “and I feel fine”. The rest of the lyrics were akin to rapidly repeating an old timey tongue twister like “Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers”. But nonetheless it was highly amusing.

I guess the lesson here for me, today, despite my geriatric tendencies, though one could also conclude the lesson is that I have entirely too much time on my hands, is that I’m still young at heart. Like a 14 year old geeking out at those “amazing” music videos on MTV trapped in an occasionally audibly creaking, slightly overweight, stretch-marked, 50 year old body. And that’s okay with me, because acceptance leads to freedom.