Random observations on my descent down the sanity spiral: Random Tuesday Thoughts


Snippet of conversation overheard at the coffee shop that I am truly hoping I heard out of context:

"Yeah, so, my wife is really into reading books right now. THAT could be bad."

Next she'll want to VOTE, or something. Gawd.

At the community water park the other day I saw a 8-or-9 year old girl wearing a lime green string bikini with fringes on the boobs. The fringes flounced when she ran. She ran like she was auditioning for Baywatch, and she DID have the beginnings of boobs.

I am never having a girl. Unless I can somehow convince her to become a butch lesbian. But I think that's kind of frowned upon as a parenting technique.

Let's keep things in perspective, shall we? Hello Kitty luxury water, at $100 a bottle.

I've gotten it all up in my head that I'm going to start sewing eco-friendly clothing & diapers for kids. I have some organic cotton & bamboo fabric coming from Wazoodle.com. I considered hand-dyeing it, and found myself saving the little pollen-y things from my lilies in anticipation of using it to make a dye...and that's when I realized that I've gone completely off the rails. Even Elle, my frugalista eco-guru friend, backed away slowly when I told her that.

(You'll still love me, though, right?)

I'm purposely trying to keep this post relatively BlogHer-free because I remember how irritating it was last year when everybody kept yapping about it and I wasn't going. But...two more sleeps til BlogHer.

There is something sticky on my laptop. Ew.

Does your breakfast need a little life? Here's a toast defibrilator.

Every time I think I'm getting ahead financially, I realize that it's because I forgot to pay the bills.

Hubby just came home with bags of hotdogs and Kraft Dinner. He could have at least waited until I was GONE to NY to set the menu for him and my son.

Non sequiturs, or, Evolutionary U-Turns Sometimes Make the Best Conversationalists

Overheard in the grocery store line-up:

Dude 1: "Yeah, so, it's when the guy just, whoop! Flicks his hockey stick between your legs. Like, lifts your sack and smacks you underneath. Man, that hurts."

Dude 2: "Yeah."

Dude 1: "Just, y'know, a quick hit. Fuck that hurts. You have no idea how much that hurts."

Dude 2: "Yeah I do."

Dude 1: "Oh, yeah, right. I guess you would know, huh?"

Dude 2 (reading newspaper headline): "'One Million Kenyans Face Starvation'. Poor Kenyans."

Dude 1: "Enh. Kenyans. Whatever. They're all reincarnated, over and over. The entire population of Kenya."

Dude 2 (sings, loudly and tunelessly): "The llliiiiooons...in Keennnyaaaa...come to Keennnyyaaaa...we have llliiioooonss...."

Me (thinking): So...which aisle of the grocery store do they sell recreational narcotics? Because I somehow overlooked it.

Does the Blue Man Group sleep on memory foam? I bet they bought the protective cover if they do : Random Tuesday Thoughts


So! It's Tuesday. I have to be honest, this Tuesday isn't as exciting for me as LAST Tuesday, when I was screaming like a teenage girl watching No Doubt perform. But my mind HAS been wandering all over the place today. Want to know where it went?

I think it left a trail of brain slime, let's follow that...

Conversation with my Mom after she generously babysat the toddler so hubby and I could shop for a new bed in peace:

Mom: "So, did you get one?"

Me: "Yep!"

Mom: "What did you get?"

Me: "Memory foam."

Mom: "Ooooohhh...nice!"

Me: "Yeah! I even got the pillow. I was laying on my side and my spine was totally straight. Everything was in alignment. It was just like on TV. I was an infomercial! The infomercials are right."

Mom: "...I hate that."

I was driving home today and saw a billboard ad for the Blue Man Group. Their makeup looked very...shiny. So then I started thinking, what kind of makeup do they use exactly? Because spending that much time in greasepaint would pretty much stain you blue permanently. Are they willing to make that sacrifice for their art? Nah, it looks too shiny to be greasepaint. Maybe it's some kind of space-age formula, plastics based. Like...Flubber, or something.

Plus, how do they get it on and off? Do they spend hours in the makeup chair for each show? Or do they just bathe in blue stuff? Can you imagine trying to exist without getting blue fingerprints all over every single thing you own? They could never commit a crime. Do you think they have special shower stalls waiting for them the instant they get off stage? I'm now really concerned with the logistics of being the Blue Man Group.

Easily amused Inquiring minds want to know, people.

Hubby and I are considering buying an older used camper trailer to holiday in this summer.

And by older, I mean "older than ME", because that's what we can afford.

Yeah, I don't know why we think spending a week in a moldy canvas bag is a good idea, either.

Our new bed is being delivered on Friday. My inlaws are also going to be in town that day. Do you think it's rude to ask them to leave early so we can test out our new purchase?

By NAPPING. I'm talking about SLEEPING. Pervs.

A friend of hubby's is holding an informal karate class twice a week for friends and family. My dream of starring in my own action flick and doing all my own stunts but being really down-to-earth about it is that much closer to reality!

(I know, I said FoN and I were going to take karate once before. But we didn't. This one is free, I'm FAR more likely to go.)

And...I think I've outdone myself on randomness, this week. I'm having trouble coming up with a title. Want to play? Grab the button, post your weirdness randomness, link up with Mr. Linky and then visit your cohorts in randomosity! Be sure to leave a blue fingerprint comment!

At least my vacation was fruity-smelling: Random Tuesday Thoughts


It's Tuesday, ya'll! You know what that means - pick up the fugly purple button, write a post with no transitional paragraphs whatsoever, and then leave a link so we can all get a peek at snippets of your life. Ready? Go!

I must not be blogging about zombies enough, because I've had a couple of nightmares about them again lately. I had one the other night about living in a post-Zombie Apocalypse world, trapped inside a beautifully airy, modern architecture house but having to dash out for supplies and avoid the undead. I woke up in the grey early dawn light, heart racing, one hand hovering over Paul sleeping soundly beside me. Part of me wanted to wake him up to comfort me (because apparently I'm six years old) but most of me was afraid to do so in case he rolled over and TRIED TO EAT MY FACE.

A conversation I'm still snickering about, on the way home from the grandparents this evening:

"He's pretty tired. Does he need a bath, or do you think we can just get away without it?"

"He should be fine. It's not like he was playing in mud."

"Huh? Did you say 'it's not like he was playing in blood'??"

"No, MUD. Not blood. He's a little young to be starting a Fight Club."


"Although if he did, he couldn't tell us about it."

I'm sure you all have heard the phrase, "Part of this nutritious breakfast", right? When I was a kid I tried to use that to convince my Mom to buy me something like Count Chocula (we were pretty much only allowed our choice of Cheerios or Shreddies. Sometimes, if she was feeling frisky, Honey Nut Cheerios).

She then made a point of explaining to me that "part of this nutritious breakfast" does not equate "the nutritious part of this breakfast". It's all in the italics. You could serve up a bowl of broken glass and rusty bolts beside that toast and OJ and it would still be part of the nutritious breakfast, but it's not going to offer you much itself.

Well, maybe some roughage.

Anyway she taught me to listen for the omissions and the subtexts in advertising. So I thought of her this week when I saw an ad for Fruit Loops on TV, touting the Fruit Loops themselves as "the fruity-smelling part of this complete breakfast".

No kidding? I wasn't aware that my breakfast required part of it to be FRUITY SMELLING. I mean - I could put some Mr. Sketch smelly markers in there to meet THAT condition, but it wouldn't get me much else.

Well, maybe some roughage.

A haiku:

Vacation! Too short
Accomplished little, much like
haiku poetry

Dentists must be really good at charades, huh? I had a filling done this week and while I'm benumbed, have 4 different metal implements in my mouth and what is essentially a blue condom over my face he muses, "I don't know why you have a cavity there. You have good oral hygiene, there's no reason for you to get a cavity there."

I made a gesture with both hands in front of my stomach.

"No," he answers, "Pregnancy would have nothing to do with it."

I shrugged and pointed at the implement he was using, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh," he said, "What is that? It's a liquid filling, because the cavity is at the bottom of the tooth and we want to make sure we get a good seal."

Amazing, huh? I mean, what I was actually saying was "You fat bastard" and "Get away from me with that fucking thing before I shove it up your ass", but he was REALLY CLOSE.

So you know what to do - get randomizing! And make sure to visit Kelly at Baby Boogers to leave your link with her, too! Happy Tuesday!

Next you'll tell me the Singapore Sling came out of LA

"Do you know what they're selling at the grocery store already? Mandarin oranges!!"


"It's so early! It's the damn Chinese producing them."

"Because they're Mandarin oranges."

"They just have to infiltrate every market, I swear..."

"But....they're Mandarin oranges."

"Well, they never produced them before."

"Who the hell named them 'Mandarin' oranges, then?"

"...I don't know."

So you bring me THIS??

While I'm doing mindless things like having sex walking with my son in the stroller, I like to let my Brain out to wander around. And hopefully dig up some good blog posts. Unfortunately, while searching for good produce in the Garden of Blog Posts, my Brain only seems to pick from the "If THIS happened, you could post THIS" patch. Like the shining nugget of "If you were caught blogging about work at work you could write this" and the juicy goodness of "If Xander slept through the night you could exclaim this". And the rich, drippy-with-irony post "If everybody died from a plague and there was nobody around to read it you could post this" post. And the slightly smelly, "If you were working for Pay Per Post and they asked you to review something totally inappropriate you could write this".

(Actually, it sounds like that last one is totally plausible, all I would have to do is sign up. Which I won't, because I'm lazy).

So I am a little frustrated with this output and I told my Brain so.

"Well that's what you pay me for." replied my Brain.

"I don't pay you. And I don't even think YOU could dream up a way that would work out."

"Figure of speech, dumbass. I'm supposed to be imaginative. I'm imagining."

"Yeah, but those don't work for me. I need something I can post today. Are there other bloggers in the Garden?"

"Of course, all the time. Some of them are gathering wool, for some reason."

"Oooohhh kay. Taking my lousy metaphor a little far."

"Sorry." apologized my Brain. Which is a fairly odd sensation.

"Well, could you just, y'know, club one over the head and take his post?"


"It's not really plagiarism if he hasn't properly harvested it, right? Just pick a good one."

"...do I even know you?"

Obviously not.

Someone inform NASA

Science according to 7-year-old boys:

"Did you know that, um, octopusses, um, if you bite one of their tails...."


"Yeah, tentacles, if you bite one off, it grows back, like, right away."

"Right away?"

"Yeah, like, in five seconds." (this time is quoted with authority)

"Really? What if a shark bit them ALL off at once?"

"That would take, um..."

(long pause)

"...NINE seconds."

That's why I pay you the big bucks!

"Okay, I have two Two-Bite Brownies. That's 4 bites. Four bites doesn't count, right?"

"Shouldn't. But, if you can manage to eat them in ONE bite..."

"Omigod! I could have four Two-Bite Brownies!"