Just call me Crapbag…

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I missed some sort of life lesson as a child. And that life lesson is “It’s better to be a crapbag in your professional life to reap immediate rewards, than to have ethics and wait for your just rewards.”

I know, I know. You are all telling me that I will get my just rewards and in the long run the crapbag will be left in the dust and loathed by all.

But what if I die before my just rewards mature?!?! I mean, I could be in a car accident today! Twinkies may become lodged in my throat and I may choke to death on my beloved squishy, yellow delights! I may fall off a curb and smack my head trying to perfect my curb surfing routine!

Spam could pop out of its can with a vengeance and break my nose thereby lodging pieces of my nose cartilage into my brain, killing me instantly!!!!

So I have a new life plan.

Get my rewards immediately. By any means necessary. They won’t be just, but I’ll have gotten them.

Rewards

I’m going to get the Hubster on board with this tonight. I better cook some dinner so he doesn’t protest the plan. But not spam, that shit could make its move to kill me tonight.

 

 

It’s time to color with crayons….

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Some kids just have the worst luck in life. They are born to parents who put absolutely no thought into naming them. On the flip side, they are born to parents who spend too much time coming up with a unique name; which ultimately is used to torment the child in their teen years. And there’s that third style of naming kids.

The parents who purposefully misspell a word that has absolutely no business being a child’s name and call it a day.

Poor, poor Little. You better take up interest in karate and your school’s track team. That way you have your ass covered for all those scrapes you’ll find yourself in as you scream the spelling at people. People who, I may add, are knowingly mocking you by pretending they can’t get it right.

Now, I know you are all dying to know the name. I’m not going to tell you. I refuse to be the first person to make fun of a newborn.

….

At least publicly. Privately, I’ve been laughing for hours.

 

 

Make food a prize and we’ll talk…

You know how I was challenged to write a blog a day for 30 days in a row?

Yeah, I blew it. I took the past two days off to nap and eat at the Melting Pot.

Future note to anyone who challenges me to something; if it doesn’t involve food, I don’t care to win.

That’s all I’m writing today since I’m trying to wolf down mac and cheese between bouts of screaming from my Tiny Little.

 

Why does the freezer…

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I’ve decided to start a new series called Why. I often have these random questions on why things work the way they do and no one ever knows the answer. I invariably have to turn to the internet in order to solve the riddles that only my brain seems to produce.

And everyone knows the internet is always correct…

Today’s question is why does the temperature in the freezer rise so much when you turn on the ice maker?

Now, I know what you’re all thinking right now. Well, duh, I get that inserting water into a freezer is going to lower the temperature since the water is warmer than the interior of the freezer. But why does the temperature swing by 20 degrees or so? I mean, that’s not even a freezer anymore, that’s soup. I had some cookie dough in there and it started to melt into a puddle.

Which is a damn shame because my cookies are the BEST in the world. Not to toot my own horn, but people demand they be shipped to them because even days after they are baked they are yummier than all the others in the world.

Okay, that may have been an exaggeration, but still, my cookies rock. And now they’re soupy.

Because the stupid freezer and its stupid ice maker.

I don’t know if you’ve gleaned this yet, but the Why series may also involve me asking questions about why shit happens without needing an actual google answer. And if you google this dilemma about the freezer and ice you will stumble around experiments seeing if hot water freezes faster than cold and yada, yada, yada…you waste 3 hours of your life reading about science when all you really wanted was non-soupy cookie dough.

 

 

That’s my story…

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Last night I walked into Target to get a birthday card for my mom. Big mistake. $170 later, I walked out with the most expensive birthday card I have ever purchased.

Bullshit-50s-guy

Really, the price of cards needs to come down a little bit or people aren’t going to be getting presents anymore. Can I skip the card and just send an I love you birthday email?!?! Surely my mother would not want me to spend $170 on a card every birthday.

And let’s not even talk about mother’s day. You know they mark those things up around April! Next year I may spend $200 on a card. Where will it end?!!!

So, I spent $170 on a birthday card at Target. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Now, where should I store all of the plastic bags it required to carry that birthday card out of the store?

 

 

Mickey and Minnie are going to flee for their lives…

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A friend, Nikki, recently told me she is taking her children to Disneyland next year. It’s the first time her kids will be going; a 9-year-old boy and two girls, a 5 and 2 year old. The 5 year old loves princesses beyond all belief. The 2 year old, well, she’s pretty awesome but with one tiny itty bitty flaw.

She loves Mickey and Minnie with a passion. A 2 year old’s passion. I mean, she loves me and when she hears my voice she gets all nuts and tries to decapitate me with her hugs. She’s like Elmira from Tiny Toons. She loves things so much that she squishes them to death.

This kid is going to walk into Disneyland and lose her mind. One parent is going to be chasing the 5 year old who is tearing up the park on her princess finding quest. The other parent is going to be left with the 9 year old who is trying to sink through the asphalt at the embarrassment of his siblings.

That leaves the 2-year-old free to race straight towards the first poor bastards she sees wearing the Mickey and Minnie suit. I would pay money to watch the ensuing mayhem as the character’s handlers try to get their coworkers out of harm’s way.

She may be only 3 feet tall but she moves like lightning. She took off on me once and her brother just glanced at me and told me to wait for her to come back. He knew we’d never catch her. I’m thinking the leash for children may have to be deployed here. They own one, you know, because the 2 year old learned all her tricks from her sister who was a hellion as a toddler also.

Oh my god. I feel compelled to call Disneyland and warn them, but I’m not going to. Mostly because I want to watch the news to see what happens. This could be the first banning of a toddler from Disneyland. I mean, she could kill Mickey in front of other children and they’d have to ban her.

This is also the first time I did not ask to get into the luggage of someone going to Disneyland. I’m too scared that if you combine me, the 5-year-old and the 2-year-old, we’d all end up in jail. How those girls are so similar to me in personality I will never know.

Nikki is definitely going to charge me for their therapy bills.

 

Bulldogs aren’t blankets…

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Lola kept me up all night with her excessive squirming. She was acting like it was -4 degrees in the bedroom when in actuality, it was 67 degrees. I was suffering from heat stroke and she was seeking out a winter coat to wear.

It was awful.

Then the Tiny Little shows up to daycare and she is scooting all over her crib desperately seeking something. After 15 minutes of her rolling around and shoving herself into every corner without finding what she was seeking, I realized she was cold. Here’s the thing about daycare, we can’t use any blankets and many babies use blankets at home with their parents.

Tiny Little was freezing and needed some warmth.

I look over at Lola lying next to the heater while shaking thanks to the frozen tundra our home had become and for a split second, I considered throwing Lola into the crib and allowing the two of them to warm each other up.

To my knowledge, there’s no Navy rule that says English Bulldogs cannot enter a crib to warm a baby who is on the verge of perishing from frostbite.

Only blankets are banned…

Backlit screens are for suckers…

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I have used my Kindle so often and for so many years that it has finally decided to quit life. Things aren’t in dire shape yet, but if I don’t get a new one for Christmas there is a very real possibility that I will shank someone.

And that someone will be the Hubster. He knows he must buy me one and keep me happily reading or I’ll be up to no good in mere days.

So, what’s broken about it? Well, apparently I use the page turning button. A lot. I have the very first Kindle they came out with; it has a full keyboard with buttons below the screen. This is special since they have since converted over to a Kindle with a touchscreen keyboard and no buttons.

And I think it’s awful.

I’m really sad about my Kindle, I love the feel of the real buttons when I’m browsing through the bookstore. It’s a conundrum because in every other area of my life I want the newest technology with the most streamlined look.

But not for my Kindle. I had no idea I was so sentimental. 

I called Amazon and explained the problem, the pages keep flipping forward as I read. The gentleman I spoke to said that my button is sticking and he offered me a solution. He said to pry off the forward button that is causing the problems. I know which one it is, it’s the forward button on the left side of the screen. I always use that one since I hold my books lefty.

Apparently if I pry this button off the Kindle, I can still use the other forward button on the right side of the screen. I asked if it would work and he said it should. And then he offered me the next best thing if that didn’t work.

A hammer.

This is my kind of guy. Breaking technology that is going haywire is my forte.

So I went online and toured the new Kindle devices and I’ve decided I need the new Kindle Voyage. Mostly for the name. A little bit for the features. Fuck sentimentality, this new Kindle battery will last months longer than my stupid old Kindle battery.

I’ll never have to curse and shank the gods for letting my battery die in the middle of a great book ever again!!!!

Only downside I can see, there is no white Kindle option any more. I always get white and the Hubster always gets black. And now seabag packing just got interesting as the Hubster runs around scooping up any piece of technology in black.

This is like the Wii U purchase all over again!! I LIKE WHITE!! Damn these companies, charge me more if you have to, just give me a white option. Don’t get me used to the option and then rip it away when you come out with an upgrade.

I feel like Sheldon Cooper, trying to decide if he should get the PS4 or the Xbox One.

Indecisive Sheldon

I DON’T KNOW!!!

Screw it. I’m jamming a piece of plastic under the button and keeping on with my white Kindle. Apparently, like Nintendo, I just love my original too much to get rid of it.

 

There are bloodstains on the wall…

My younger brother, Tim, sent me a selfie today. He’s one year younger than I am and we both finally hit our 30s. I highlighted my hair with a subtle pink recently and this is the picture I received today:

Striped Mohawk

 Obviously, we both hate 30.

Though in our defense this hair thing has been happening since junior high. Unfortunately my job doesn’t mesh as well with neon hair colors but luckily, Tim’s does.

Lucky bastard.

As per our sibling contract, I will point out that those smears behind him are NOT from a murder, they are just hair dye. Even though he got it dyed at a salon…

And you’ll never get me to say otherwise!

 

 

 

Much better than the secret service…

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Recently I was talking with a friend online and she asked when I has ceased being The President to Lola and earned the title Mommybeast.

Well, let’s just say Lola needed a nap.

As a secret service dog to The President, Lola had to keep watch over me. And since there were no other dogs to take over her shift, she eventually got tired. One day I turned around and Lola was gone. After seeking her out I found her in the man room lying on the couch with her blankie balled up under her.

She also blames the faulty election cycle we had for her loss of confidence in The President and the household as a whole. You can read about it here:

http://shank-you-very-much.com/2013/10/10/lola-makes-me-want-to-eat-confetti/

http://shank-you-very-much.com/2013/10/11/lola-demands-a-vote-count/

Lola Canines

And as the Babybeast, she now gets to eat cheese slices whenever she looks at the Mommybeast with big eyes.

 

 

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