Try to keep up!

"It's a ten year old car, stuff breaks." This said by me to Boy #3 who is slightly freaked out that his rear-view mirror is dangling from his windshield.
"I think they sell a special glue just for rear-view mirrors, pretty sure, yeah they do, let me call your father."
Yeah they do.
Since we were heading to the WalMarts anyway, we stuck that on our list. Along with "stuff to eat and drink after 4 wisdom teeth are surgically removed" and Pepsi. We went straight to the automotive section for the glue first, but along the way I grabbed three 2 liter bottles of Pepsi. "Why didn't we get a cart, we just walked right past them?"
"Here's the glue aisle." Most of the time he just ignores me or he thinks I'm talking to myself, because I do that.
We glanced over the array of glues. "I'm going to go ask that car guy over there if he knows about special rear-view mirror glue, you continue to look." Really, I'm not going to spend anymore time in the automotive section than I have to.
"Can I help you ma'am?" What a nice guy.
"Yes, do you have special glue for rear-view mirrors that fall off the windshield?"
"Yes, let me show you." And we walked back to Boy #3 just chatting away like we were best friends. "I saw some of that glue yesterday, I hope we're not out of it." he said. "You know it has a funny name, maybe that's why you can't find it."
"Really?"
"Yep, you'll laugh when you see it."
We met up with Boy #3, he was still perusing the glues.
The car guy says, "Ah, we still have some, see here, isn't that a funny name?"

REAR-VIEW MIRROR ADHESIVE

We all had a good laugh. "I can't believe we didn't see that."
"Either can I, hey I got a joke for you."
Two jokes later Boy #3 and I broke away from the WalMart comedian and headed off to the Popsicle aisle.
"I should tell you the joke Grama told your dad and me."
"Grama?" He looked worried, and for good reason.
"It's not that bad."
"Here's the Popsicles."

So there's this little girl and she has her dog on a leash ready to take it for a walk.

"What kind do you want?"
"Grape."
"Grape? They don't sell just grape, they have grape with orange and cherry."
"I'll just eat the grape ones."

So this little girl, she asks her mom if she can take the dog for a walk and the mom says, no she's in heat.

"What else do you want? You need cold stuff because your throat will hurt too, these will really help. Oh the red, white and blue bomb pops. I love those."
"I don't like those, I want fudgesicles."

So she says the dogs in heat you can't take her for a walk and the little girl pouts and insists on taking the dog for a walk.

"Not those, they're fat free. You need all the calories you can get. No, those are sugar free."
"Just for get it. I don't need fudgesicles."
"Would you just wait a minute, I know there are regular sugar filled fudgesicles here somewhere. Fine, just walk away, we have to get your dad's pop, go to the pop aisle."

So the mom says to the little girl, go ask your father. The little girl finds her father in the garage and says she wants to take the dog for a walk. She's in heat honey you can't take her for a walk. But he looks at her sad face and says wait a minute. He gets a rag, pours a little gasoline on it, rubs it on the dogs ass and says there, you take her around the block once, just once, okay?

Boy #3 and I now have six 2 liter bottles in our arms and a box of Popsicles and I say, "We should get Gatorade."
"Mom."
"What?"
"I just want to go."
"Where is this coming from? We were just laughing with the car guy and now your popping an attitude."
"Can I just say something?"
Oh, he's jumping up on his soapbox. I looked around and we were the only one's in the Gatorade aisle. Both of us with our arms full, why didn't I get a shopping cart? "Go ahead."
"Why do I have to suffer because people can't put their forks down? Everything is fat free or sugar free. I want a fudgesicle full of sugar." This is coming from a kid who, with a darker tan and a distended stomach, would look like a starving Ethiopian child.

Okay so the little girl takes her dog for the walk. She comes back to the garage alone. Uhh, honey, where's the dog? Oh daddy, she ran out of gas about half way around the block so another dog is pushing her home.

WalMart's making me retarded, big surprise

It's the out the entrance, in the exit thing again. Seriously people, the doors are clearly marked with an EXIT sign and an ENTRANCE sign. They use capital letters and everything. When I'm pushing my shopping cart full of provisions and trying not to slosh my mocha, because losing any of that precious liquid would be a crime, get the hell out of my way. Today on my way out, the EXIT, I had to wait for a steady stream of people to enter the exit. I put on my best very aggrevated face and kept glancing at the EXIT sign. None of the retards caught on.
Then I got my chance to leave, finally. I grabbed my keys and started for my car. I'm so blogging about these morons when I get home.
Pretty sure my car was up this row.
Can't these people read?
Maybe if I use my key chain button I can hear my car beep.
It's common sense, one door is in and one door is out.
I hear faint beep, where is that coming from?
I guess I should be use to it by now.
I'll lift my hand in the air and push the button several times.
It happens every time I'm hear, which is, I hate to say, more than once a week.
Where the hell is it?
I forget stuff I need and have to make a return trip.
That beep is coming from the left.
"Ma'am, your car is over there."
"Thanks." Oh God.


That guy is probably blogging about the Walmart retard wandering around the parking lot pushing her cart, holding her mocha and frantically pressing her key chain button in every direction because she can't find her car.

A new encounter with the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude

Boy did the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude and I go way off our weekly routine, holy crap. First of all I'm hurt, he forgot my name, he forgot our special little, unspoken bond we had. How can this happen? I'm there every week. To make matters worse, we had to communicate with one another. This never goes well.
With his Vietnam prison camp guard in a Chuck Norris movie grin, he said, "Nine dollah."
I already had my seven ah twenty on the counter in exact change, they like exact change there, in fact they almost take it out of my wallet. They like singles. Perhaps they like to avoid the bank, communication problem going on there too maybe hmmmm?
"Huh, nine dollars?" I'm so finding a new dry cleaner pal, I'm not scared of you.
"You drop off 5 shirt, not 4. Nine dollah." He showed me the receipt where they wrote 4 and then added a +1, didn't refer to the shirts hanging next to me but the doctored receipt, like a paper trail will convince me the error of my ways. I glanced at the shirts and he proceeded to count them out for me, still with the Vietnam prison camp guard in a Chuck Norris movie grin.
I wasn't 100% sure they were all the husbands shirts but was not going to check them in front of the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude. Coming off a week of vacation and getting back to work, I was slammed with piles of stuff to do on my desk, interrupted more times that I can count so next week will be a repeat of this week, my eggs hurts, I was starving and I didn't want him to get his numb-chucks out and beat me senseless. I am scared of him. I gave him a ten so he had to cough up one of his precious singles and I left.
They are all the husbands shirts or we inherited a new one, not sure.
And yes, I said my eggs hurt.

I don't know dear

When the husband told me our brother-in-law feed his black lab a bowl of chili, I said, "What was he thinking?"
"I don't know dear."
"I can't even imagine the smell, don't even want to think about it."

When the husband left about a dozen beef jerky sticks out on the table next to the couch last night, I said, "What were you thinking?"
"I don't know dear."
"Has she deposited any of it yet?"
"I don't know dear."

I found out the answer to that question on our walk tonight. I try to plan dog walks right after I know she's taken a crap. But a dog full of beef jerky is unreliable, that's a fact you have to face. I went on the walk anyway. Had my plastic bag in my pocket after careful inspection for holes on the bottom. None. I laugh at people that walk their dogs, leash in one hand and bag of poop swinging in the other. Yet still off I went on a long walk to my parents house. Not even half way there, "Oh, you gotta be kidding me, damn it, gambled and lost big time." And I continued to mutter. "Now I have to pick up your poop, you know food in a plastic wrapper is people food, you didn't have to eat that. Oh my God, do you smell that? Don't you moved, let me get this bag, sit."

We continued on our walk, leash in one hand and the other swinging a bag of dog poop. Why do I still smell it? I tied it up in a tight knot. Oh, I see, there's a small hole in the top part of the bag and the poop smell with a hint of beef jerky is escaping through that very small hole. Wonderful. There has to be some place I can get rid of this. My eyes darted around the neighborhood, too risky, too many people out. Son of a bitch.
We made it to mom and dads for our visit and mom got the dog a bowl of water and me, two more plastic bags. One for on the way home and one to double bag the poop. Mom did not offer to let me dispose of the double bagged and knotted poop, so I walked home with it. She was mortified I came over with the bag in the first place, there was no way she was going to take possession of it even if it was put in the garage and trash day is tomorrow. Go figure.

Got home and told the husband that his dog pooped out his beef jerky and I carried it home. "You know she ate it and you still took her, what were you thinking?"
"I don't know dear."

Apparently Bernie's new girlfriend is a little thick.

Go ahead, have a one sided cell phone conversation within earshot of me and see if I don't blog about, I dare you. You loud talkers crack me up.
Innocently soaking up the sun at the pool today, without a book because I decided to lose myself in my thoughts. In other words, try to nod off. But my ears perked up when Bernie's mom walked into the pool area yammering away on her cell phone.
Names have not been changed to protect the innocent:
"You have a new girlfriend?........... Is she pretty?....... A pretty face, good. How's the body?"
Huh? This is when nodding off became moot.
"Oh, a little heavy? What would you say like fat or just thick."
Oh.....

My.....

God....

The most I've ever asked my boys about girlfriends are their names and where do they live. Because 1. they don't introduce me and 2. my concern for them getting lost is great as they have inherited from me, Boy #2's girlfriend put it best as, the directionally retarded gene.

"Thick, well that's okay they can lose weight, they can always lose weight. They get a nice looking, well built guy like you Bernie and they get incentive to look their best."

The husband has a compass in his big brain. Like one of those black car compasses our parents use to have on their dashboards. It kind of rolls around in his head and the settles on the direction he needs to go. "We have to go North." "Really, how do you know that?"
"Because I feel it."
"You feel North?"
"Well yeah, can't you?"
"I feel like we should stop for a Mocha, but I don't feel North."

"Are you bringing her to Becky's tomorrow, so I can meet her? I know it's Doug's birthday and you have to go there too, but you know how he gets. Come to Becky's first."

One time one of the boys friends got lost and called the husband for directions. She was panicking and the husband was trying to bring her in, finally he told her to pull over, she did. "Now," he said, "Tell me where the sun is, look in the sky and tell me where the sun is."............"You need to turn around, you're going West, you need to be going East."

"Then you can go to Doug's later and not have to stay long. He'll be all over you and you're new girlfriend will feel out of place...... What's her name?..........Dee Dee? Oh."

Hmmm, the thick girl has a name.

"Seriously, come to Becky's then go to Doug's. Remember when I lost all that weight, I was huge and now look at me, she'll lose the weight."

Bernie's mom will have Dee Dee anorexic in no time. Run Dee Dee run!

You Anti-Dentite Bastards

I don't know why the jokes about dentists not being real doctors runs rampant on television and movies. Exhibit 1 this Seinfeld clip. Dentists give shots, you know the ones that feel like they're going up to your brain or out the other side of your mouth. And they prescribe drugs, good drugs. They even give you drugs in their office and those are the ones for which you need a designated driver and they take you with your prescriptions to pick up more drugs, they have to do the talking for you.

I watched The Hangover for the third time, I find myself with a huge crush on Bradley Cooper, which is okay because the husband says if Meg Ryan ever knocked on our door he'd kick me to the curb. That's a good picture of him................

Oh, dentists. In The Hangover the made fun of Andy from The Office who played Stu and they said he was a dentist not a real doctor several times. Good movie though.

Anyway I guess I'm sticking up for dentist because I have to go back after the appointment I had Tuesday, and then again. Hey if I want to drink mocha's without pain I gotta do what I gotta do. And since I have to go back and forth to the dentist/doctor, I plan on sending out good karma points to all the dentists out there that have to put up with you Anti-Dentite Bastards.
Really you only get that anti-dentite bastard line if you're a Seinfeld enthusiast.

Stay the hell out of my neighborhood when you get out of jail

I don't know anyone in this car, this kind of stuff just happens in front of my house a lot. And that's not my tree, it's my neighbors. Story below:

I can blog about this in a humor blog because amazingly the two intoxicated morons are fine and they didn't run over any of the millions of neighbors we have that push their babies in strollers, walk after their young children that still have training wheels on their bikes, the kids and adults alike that ride their bikes, the dog walkers, or the older couples that like to stroll hand and hand on a lovely summer evening before the sun has set. Before frigging 8:00 pm.

So to the two idiots that entered my development in such a manner that they took out a mailbox two doors down from my house, clip the next one, almost hit my kid who was talking to his friend at the end of our driveway and then crossed the street into my neighbors yard uprooting and cracking her pine tree in half:
Stay the hell out of my neighborhood when you get out of jail.

I saw the car go by and the look on Boy #3's face, heard the crash and saw him take off. He ran to the car and his friend called 911, I was right behind them. An off duty police officer ran over and took charge. But the cell phones came out and several pictures were taken. And we all got to watch the driver take her sobriety test and then watch the handcuffs go on. She got to sit in the back of the police car and watch her totaled car get towed away. The "OMG is this chick for real" passenger strolled over to the onlookers side of the street and struck up a conversation with Boy #3 and his friend. These two were under police orders to keep quiet until their statements could be taken. But I wasn't. "What were you drinking."
She rolled her eyes because she was in the middle of hitting on a witness to her BFF's crime. Seriously.
As the tow truck maneuvered around the wreckage "OMG is this chick for real" darted into the street, almost getting hit because she left her CD's in the car. I really don't think she knew what day it was and I really wish they would have threw her in the back of the police car too, really a lot, in fact I should have volunteered.

What did my 18 year old learn? He saw first handed, in living color, live, what happens when you drive drunk.
What did I learn? Boy #3 almost got hit my this idiot but was the first to the car to see if they were all right, never even hesitated. I told him, "You know what kind of person you are when an emergency happens and you are a wonderful, kind-hearted soul. You know that?"
"I think I got some glass in my foot."
He ran to the scene in barefeet, I stopped to put shoes on when the husband fell off the latter and broke his hand.