I'm really not that busy

Finding hilarity in the mundane since 2008

Monthly Archives: July 2010

That’s it, no more cuteness allowed

Today Cooper was particularly cute.  His hair was combed, he was clean, and his clothes matched right down to his shades.  He said hello to strangers, smiled his devilish little grin, and held up three fingers in a wobbly “okay” sign to indicate how many fingers old he is.  You know, the complete opposite of his normal appearance and behavior. An older man in line with us at the bookstore found him particularly charming and asked for my permission to give him a quarter.  I agreed, and as he fished through a handful of coins to pick the shiniest one, he told me he had grandchildren and even great-grandchildren he had never met.  He said, “My kids told their kids I was dead.”  As Cooper snatched the coin into his greedy little paw, my mouth spoke, “Thank you.”  At the same moment my brain slapped me upside the head and said, “You fucking idiot, you just taught your kid to take money from a pedophile!”

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Elves, knives, and razors… Oh my!

So I was attacked by the Keebler Elves today.  No, they didn’t force feed me an entire package of Fudge Stripes.  I can do that without any help at all, thank you.  Seriously, here’s what happened…

I was sitting on the couch working on a post that was sure to bring world peace, end world hunger, and make the World Cup finally end, when I heard a tiny knock on the front door.  I didn’t see anyone through the peephole, so I threw the door open prepared to run down some ding-dong ditchers.  However, no children were beating a hasty retreat from my house.  I looked around in confusion when a little voice called, “Hey, lady, look down.”  And there they were: Ernie, Ma Keebler, the tall one who packs the fudge (between the EL Fudge cookies, get your mind out of the gutter!), the token Puerto Rican, the token black, the female in purple, and the female in yellow who looks like Michelle Duggar.

Only they weren’t smiling, and they were wielding tiny knives.  Ernie stepped forward and said,  “We’re gonna cut you good, bitch. Uncommonly good.”  Then they all jumped forward and began hacking at my legs.

I started screaming, “Why?  I’m a loyal customer!  I tell everyone I know that Townhouse taste better than Ritz!  Why, Ernie, why?”

Ma Keebler said, “Like you don’t know.  You’ve been passing off our Soft Batch cookies as homemade, bitch.”

“No!  No, that’s not me.  It’s that über-mom across the street.  The one with all the kid-related bumper stickers on her van.”

Then Ernie held up his hand for them to stop, “You mean those bumper stickers for every activity the kid is in?  Like ‘Rosedale Softball, Jordan #9’ and ‘Junior accordian champs 2007 ‘  I hate that shit.”

“Oh my gosh, me too!”  I said.  “Like you need to advertise that you’ve martyred your whole life to your kids’ activities.”

“Okay, boys, let’s head across the street.  Sorry for the attack.  Here’s a coupon for Gripz.”

Shaken, I shut the door.  After I caught my breath I headed for the pantry and pulled a package of cookies down from behind the George Foreman Grill.  As I bit into the chewy, chocolaty perfection that is a Soft Batch, I thought to myself, “Meh, she probably had it coming.”

Okay, here’s what really happened….

Halfway through my shower I realized my razor blade was dull.  I had to climb out of the shower dripping wet to look for a new one, but there were no new razor blades in my cabinets.  Finally I found a single blade disposable razor.  I stood there shivering and debated.  Which is worse, fancy four blade that’s gotten dull, or unused single blade?  I went with the unused single blade.  Now I look like I was attacked by knife wielding elves.

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