Thursday, August 31, 2006

Long Weekend.

Enjoy the long weekend. I will be MIA for a few days. If you find yourself looking for different blogs to read I have a few recommendations.

So the Fish Said
Beth is Mia's mom and she usually has entertaining posts that range from parenting to her old flames and her hot pediatrician.

Rude Cactus
Chris is Beth's husband from So the Fish Said. His post's are all over the place. Some political stuff (which if you agree with his views it's great, if you don't, just muddle through because they are still funny) to funny pictures and stories. His August 15th post about caulk is classic. He also every so often throws in a hooker reference which always amuse me.

A fairly new blog about being a stepmom as well as tidbits about music and entertainment. Well written. She is a real life friend of mine who I have not seen in many years.

Metro Dad
The dude is too funny.

Desperate Working Momma
Cat has recently revamped her blog and has included video. The video's are hysterical and her writing is the Shiz-nit (You have to read her blog to know why I used the word Shiz-net.)

Dad Vs. Dad
My brother The LawnWhisperer's blog. He is funny (when and if he post's). His stories about his kids are funny (when and if he posts). He loves getting comments (when and if he posts).

I was digging through some old pictures and found one of Maxfield from when he was about 9 months old.

Often Misunderstood

One of our neighbors stopped by the other day for a brief visit. She did not stop by to visit Lauren or myself but to see Wyatt and talk baby talk. It is weird how babies have that effect on women.

While she was chatting she mentioned there was a Garden/Museum place that, on occasion shows movies outside and that Lauren and I should check it out. People can bring picnic baskets tour the gardens and watch a movie. She said it was a great place for a date. It would be romantic and she said it was only five bucks a person.

I said, “That sounds nice. Can we make-out? Because if I am spending five bucks and it is a movie I want to make-out.”

At first she didn’t quite get what I was saying and she looked at me like I was strange. Then she kind of caught the joke and changed the subject.

After she left, I started to think maybe she thought I was asking her, our neighbor, if her and I could make-out.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Dizzying Intellect

One of the things I love about Lauren is the fact that she tries and ususally succeeds to think like I would in certain situations. The most common situtaion she goes into "dizzying intellect" mode is when she is looking for something that she knows I just used.

She'll call me at work.
Bill: This is Bill Can I help you?

Lauren: Hi. It's me. Do you know where the Phillips head screwdriver is?

Bill: I just used it last night to change the batteries in Maxfiled's truck.

Lauren: I know.

Bill: Is it in the toolb...

Lauren: Not it is not in the tool box that is why I am calling you.

Bill: Is it in on the shelf as you walk into...

Lauren:..the garage. No I checked.

Bill: How about be....

Lauren: Behind it? Already Checked.

Bill: On the shelf thingy next to the...

Lauren: Airconditioner? Nope. Not there.

Bill: Did you look on the drys...

Lauren: The Drysink. Yes. Not the left drawer though because you wouldn't put it in the left drawer.

Bill: The mantle

Lauren: I checked.

Bill: On top of the refridgerator.

Lauren: Checked.

Bill: The cabinet where the coffee mugs are.

Lauren: Why would you put it in there?

Bill: Because, when I finished with the batteries I probably went to get something...

Lauren: drink, and you figured you would just leave the screwdriver there.

Bill: Yes.

Lauren: That was the first place I checked. It is not there.

Bill: Oh. Well, then I can't tell you where I put it.

Lauren: That is why you should just put it back where it belongs in the tool box.

Bill: But I love the way you think like I do trying to figure out where I would leave it.

Lauren: But I don't like to think like you ...Oh wait a minute. Hold on.


Lauren: I found it.

Bill: Where?

Lauren: In your closet.

Bill: My closet?

Lauren: Yeah. You probably put the screwdriver in your pocket and when you went to get changed for bed you emptied your pockets and instead of putting the screwdriver back in the toolbox like you should have at that time, you just put in on the shelf in your closet. I knew I would figure it out.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Pee Coach

I posted this over at the Blogfathers last week.

My oldest son, Max, is two and half. We have been slowly introducing him to potty training. Right now he is afraid of the toddler training potty and refuses to go near it unless he wants to stand on it to reach the sink. He is, however, fascinated with the regular toilet. As part of his basic potty training it has now fallen on me to “show” him how daddy goes.

Every time I have to pee, I invite him into the bathroom to show him how daddy pees. At first, like most kids his age, he was only interested in flushing. Each time we would go in to the bathroom he would run over to the toilet and grab the handle so he would be the one who would get to flush. He was very protective of the handle. After a few demonstrations, he realized that I would let him flush and he became more interested in the actual act of urination. Without the distraction of having both his hands around the toilet handle he felt it would be okay to try and break my stream.

“Don’t touch” and “No” were not working so I finally told him that the stream was “Hot”. He understands hot.

Now that he has a better understanding of the process as well as some basic language skills, he now feels the need to commentate on what is going on. I don’t know about the rest of you fathers out there but I am not used to having someone give me the play by play as I pee. But my son, every time, gives it his best. The following is his two-year-old coverage of daddy peeing.
“Reddee, set, GO!….Is hot daddee. Is hot… Bubbles? Lellow Bubbles. Hot lellow bubbles daddee. All done? All done.” He then flushes and follows up with, “Bye Bye bubbles. Yay Daddee”

I have not been able to give him the finer points of aiming because I am usually laughing so hard at his play by play that my aim is a little off. He also misses the whole “shake” part with his commentary but that is because he is so into the bubbles.

I know there are tons of books, videos, blogs and what-have-you on this subject, from leaving M&M’s on the tank to using Cheerios for aiming practice but do you think example is the best way to teach?

Monday, August 28, 2006

Big Boy

Wyatt had his two month check up the other day and apparently two month old boys are not supposed to weigh 15 lbs 8oz, because that weight is not on the growth chart arch.

Friday, August 25, 2006

Poor Pluto

Man Very Early Makes Jelly Sandwiches Under Neighbor's Porches.

(Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus (heh heh), Neptune, Pluto.)

That is how I remember the planets. I know there are other memory tricks out there for the planets but now that astronomers are saying Pluto is no longer a planet I am going to have to change my little acrostic (I looked this word up on dictionary dot com) because I can't just have it end with Neighbor. That would not make sense.

So people of the internet, can you make up a new acrostic for me to use? Please try and keep it clean because I may pass this knowledge on to my kids. Hell it does not have to be clean but remember my mom reads this blog.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Number one

When we were younger, pre-teens, we were not allowed to curse. My parents rarely swore or used any type of bad language. I should say my dad rarely swore or used bad language. My mother, on the other hand, would use shit, damn, hell and bitch, but always in context and most likely due to one of us kids driving her crazy. She usually cursed towards the end of the day when her patience would be running out. Here are some examples.

Example 1
Kid: Mom? Michael stuck a quarter up his nose and we can’t get it out.

Mom: Shit.

Example 2
Kid: Mom? I think you left the spaghetti on the stove too long. It is bubbling all over the place.
Mom: Damn it.

Example 3:
Kid: Mom? I think we broke Bobby’s (my best friend and the kid across the street) collarbone.
Mom: Aw Hell. I will call Midge.

Example 4
Kid: Mom? Michael stuck his head in the radiator and he can’t get it out.

Mom: Son of a bitch. He will have to wait until his father gets home.

There was one swear word she would use if she was really, really mad and it was usually only uttered if someone spilled their milk at the dinner table. Spilling a drink at the dinner table was one of worst crimes we could commit. It drove my mother batty.

Kid: (Knocks over glass)
Mom: Jesusmaryandjospeh.

My parent’s rarely fought in front of us as well. Sure they would get mad at each other but most arguments, if there was an argument, happened behind closed doors. Out of the earshot of the kids. As we all grew and entered our teenage years we could get away with a few four letter words as long as they were not directed towards another sibling. Any curses spoken to or about another sibling that was overheard by my mom resulted in our mouths being washed out with soap. Also, as we were all mostly in our teenage years my parents became a little more relaxed about their arguing in front of us.

I remember the first time I saw my mom directed a middle finger gesture to my dad in front of me. I was about 16 and I was shocked. I asked her why it was okay for her to flip the bird to my dad when if I did it I would get a bar of Irish Spring as a snack. My mom’s response was quick.

“I wasn’t giving him the finger. I was telling him I think he is Number One.”

Calling someone Number One is now sort of a term of endearment for me. If someone has a smart-ass comment with me, if someone is busting my stones, or if I am having a playful argument I usually call that person Number One.

Number one
Originally uploaded by batmeaks.

"Hey Uncle LawnWhisperer, I think you are Number One."

Monday, August 21, 2006

Question of the Ages

I am sure this question is heard by many fathers, after they were watching the kids while the mother was away and upon her return it is the first words out of her mouth.

What in the hell is he wearing?

Thursday, August 17, 2006

Pillow Talk

Pillow Talk a play by William (slightly embellished from a true story)

The curtain opens to reveal a typical bedroom. There is a queen size bed center stage with a golden colored bed spread and four off-white pillows resting by the head board. There are two night stands on either side of the bed which hold reading lamps an alarm clock and a few magazines. Resting on a rocking chair, down center left, are two smaller seat pillows and two King Size pillows. The two king size pillows are a striped golden color with a black fringe which matches the decor of the entire room. There is NOT a sock, nor a pair of mens underwear any where on the floor. There is closet to the left of the bed that is impeccably clean and all of the mens clothing that hangs in the closet is in perfect order.

Bill, a good looking man in his 30s with six pack abs enters. He climbs onto the bed in an effort to get comfortable. It is apparent that he is retiring for the evening. He is fidgeting with two of the pillows at the head board when Lauren enters. Lauren is a thing of beauty, with shoulder length brown hair, dazzling eyes, and a body that deserves to be on the cover of "Hot Mom's" magazine.

Bill:Lauren? Where is the third pillow?

Lauren: The ones that I just made the new matching pillow cases for?

Bill: Umm. Yeah. I guess.

Lauren: We're not using them.

Bill: Why? They were the best and fluffiest and newest pillows that we own.

Lauren: Exactly. That is why I made pillow cases for them that matches the window treatments and the bedspread.

Bill: Well, why can't I use the pillow?

Lauren: Do you want to ruin them?

Bill: No. But a pillow is supposed to be used for sleeping. And they were the best ones we had.

Lauren: Exactly. They will last longer if we do not use them.

Bill: Sure they will. If we do not use them. But THAT is what they are supposed to be for.

Lauren: They are decorative now.

Bill: Why did you not make new pillow cases for the worse pillows and make them be decorative?

Lauren: What would be the point of that? Why would I want bad pillows to be decorative?

Bill:Because then we could use the good pillows.

Lauren: The new pillow cases are to protect the newer pillows, beside, they fill out the pillow cases better.

Bill: But what's the point of protecting the pillow if you are not going to use it?

Lauren: Did you ever see how much you slobber all over the pillows when you are asleep? I am not going to let you do that to my new pillow cases. I worked hard on them.

Bill: But what is the point of having fluffier nicer pillows if we are not going to use them.

Lauren: Oh we will. Once we get newer pillows you will be able to use the pillows that have the new caes on them.

Bill: I'm confused.

Lauren: That's okay. Go to sleep.

Bill: But I need the third pillow.

Lauren: No you don't.

Bill: Why do we need to the pillows to be decorative anyway. It is just you and me.

Lauren: So you believe. Go to sleep.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Well Wishes

As I stood and watched my son playing at the indoor play area at the mall I started to well up. He was having a good time running and jumping amongst other kids who were strangers. But, what got me was the fact that he was not interacting with the other kids. Every time he made an effort to join in, the other kids shunned him. Each time he approached the steps to the slide he would let the older kids edge their way past him and he would miss his turn. I watched as he chased some of the kids closer to his age, only to have them run away, not in the effort to encourage the chase, but more so to get away from him until he gave up. I know he is only two and half and he is at an awkward stage where the lack of the ability to communicate properly gets in his way, but it would be nice to see him make friends. Or more accurately it would be nice to see other children want to befriend him. He was not assertive, which I guess is okay.

Every so often he would look to where I was standing to make sure I could see how high he was jumping. To make sure I caught the summersault he just performed. He would see me smile and he would smile back and run off to do another stunt to impress me. He jumped from the top step of the hollow tree and he took a decent spill. He lay motionless for a few seconds; stunned but not hurt, until he heard me say from across the way, “Brush it off.” He smiled as he sprung up brushing off his hands as if he meant to take the spill and ran off to do it again. It was then that the lump appeared in my throat.

I realized, at this point in his life I am my son’s best friend. He didn’t care that the other kids were not playing with him. He only cared that I was playing with him (even though it was from the sidelines, because if I were to run and jump with him the mall security guards would cart me off). I was overcome with the emotion of the fact that I mean everything to this kid.

I walked over to him and suggested we go throw coins into the fountain. We took the 26 pennies I had in my pocket and made a wish with each one. We wished for good health for his four grandparents. We made wishes for his brother and his mom that they will always be happy. We wished that the dog and two cats would never be hungry. We wished for healing of friends, Horace and Susie who are sick. We wished for nice visits with family and friends. I took the last three coins and made three wishes. A wish that my son would eventually know that he means everything to me. A wish that he will have lots of friends. And the third wish was for chocolate covered pretzels.

We then walked to the candy stand and I bought some chocolate covered pretzels just so my son and maybe myself would know that some wishes come true.

Ice Ice Baby

We were sitting at the dinner table in the kitchen when Maxfield heard the icemaker drop a tray of ice. Maxfield loves ice. He loves playing with it and he loves eating it and he loves making a a mess with it.

"Iise Mom-Mee, Iise?"

"No Max. Eat your dinner."

"Iise Dad-Dee, Iise?"

"No Maxfield. No ice."

After realizing that he could not play Lauren and I against each other he tried a different approach. He looked over his entire body, searching. He settled on his knee which was unmarked and pointed at it.

"Boo boo? Boo boo. Iise." Max said.

Lauren laughed, "You don't have a boo boo. Let's eat."

Max got louder. "Boo boo IISE!"

"Maxfield, you do not have a boo boo." I said. "We are not getting you ice."

"Boo boo?" He said in almost a whimper.

Lauren shook her head. "No Boo Boo."

Maxfield looked at Lauren, looked at me and then back to Lauren. You could see something click in his head. He bent his arm out in front of him so his hand was touching his shoulder. He raised his elbow above his head and slammed it against the table. Hard. He winced and then pointed to elbow and said, "Boo Boo!"

Lauren and I practically fell out of our chairs laughing. Of course I got him ice. Not for his boo boo, but for his ingenuity.

Monday, August 14, 2006

School Bells

Last week school started for all the kids in our neighborhood and Lauren made sausage, pepper and onion sandwiches for dinner the night before. What does one have to do with the other? It goes like this.

Every morning I wake up at about 5:30. Part of my morning routine is taking the dog for her morning walk. We usually hit the sidewalk by 6:00 am. I enjoy this part of the morning. The sky is still dark and the soft glow of the streetlights reflects off the dew on the yards, which creates a strange orange ambient light. There is something peaceful about the croak of the tree frogs mixed with the distant noise of early traffic. Occasionally I cross paths with jogger, but for the most part I am the only person out in the neighborhood at this time. Last week, the day school started, I got a late start.

The dog and I did not get out for our morning walk until about 6:40. The sun was not up and there were dark clouds in the sky. The streetlights were out, turned off a few minutes ago by their timers. The neighborhood was strangely dark. The area I live in has beautiful tree lined streets. The easement between the sidewalk and the street is about 10 feet wide and every 10 or 15 feet or so is a large mature oak (or some such) tree. The trunks of these trees are 2 to 3 feet wide.

The dog and I headed East, stopping every so often for the dog to pee. We rounded the corner when I felt the pressure in my lower gut. The sausage, pepper and onions were seeking their revenge. I looked in all directions to make sure the coast was clear. There was tree on the corner and a stop sign. No one across, down or up the street. All Clear. I let her rip. The fart started slowly but, Increased in volume and ended with a crescendo. The dog turned up at me with a puzzled look.

I felt much better and we continued to walk when I heard a strange noise. I couldn't place where it was coming from but it was a familiar sound. It sounded like a wheeze. I stopped and listened and the noise became stifled. I stood for a minute to see if I could find the source of the sound. What was it? I turned toward the tree on the corner that separated the sidewalk from the street. The noise was coming from the other side of the tree. Then it hit me. I was horrified.

I tightened my grip on the dog's leash and headed across the street to verify what I was thinking. As I crossed, I glanced back and saw a kid leaning against the tree trying his best not to laugh hysterically. He was waiting for the school bus. I did not know he was there. I hurried down the street, as his snicker became more of a loud giggle. I wanted to die.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Third Date by Momo9

I never did date anyone else after the second date.

On our third date we went to a club. Danced all night long. We sang along to all the music. We both liked Rock’n’Roll. We fast danced and slow danced. Even though he told me he wasn’t crazy about dancing, he knew I liked it, so he did it. We talked and talked. We were getting to know each other well (I was falling in love). Almost love at first sight.

During this date he confessed that the only reason he asked me out the first time, was that his mother suggested he do it. I said, “What?”

He explained that he asked three girls out for that first Saturday date. They turned him down, so his mom suggested me (see what I mean about being a jerk). Maybe he was trying to be funny. Oh well, there were so many nice things about him, that I overlooked his nasty (humorous) remarks. I sort of liked his mother for mentioning me (we lived in the same neighborhood).

This date went very well. We talked on the porch again till the wee hours of the morning.
This was a Bingo date!
I got a kiss goodnight, and another and another! Bingo!

This is the guy who could stay out late back then. Dance and dance, and play football, basketball and baseball and never stop.
This is also the guy, today, who gets into his pajamas at 5:30pm, sits and watches the news and sports center, and would never think of asking me to dance. This is the guy who would stay awake for hours and talk to me and only me. And now barely says hello, goodbye, or goodnight. He falls asleep by 8:30 pm. Of course, if I’m lucky, I do get a game of Scrabble out of him before he retires for the evening and a kiss goodnight.
I truly did marry a winner!

Second Date by Momo9

Guest post by William's mom. Part two of a three part story about how she met my dad.

He was really playing it smooth on that first date!
The very next morning, he called. He asked if I would go to a football game that he was playing in. After the game there would be a social. A meal and dancing. I was shocked that he called. I was excited, and felt better about our first date. I really felt he didn’t like me. However I was wrong. I went to the game, met his friends, and went dancing into the night. This night he wore his own shoes and clothes. We had a good time! We talked for hours again. I was beginning to like this cocky jerk! Amazing!

Still no kiss!

Was it my breath? (be quiet sons)

Or was he still playing it smooth?

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

First Date by Momo9

I asked my mom to guest post for me for a couple of days. I never really asked my parents about how they met, so for Momo9's first guest post I aksed her to write about their first date.
A little background. My mom is the oldest of 12 and my dad is the oldest of 8. My mom lived only 2 blocks from my dad's parent's house.

First Date by Momo9.

We went to the movies and saw, “ Seven Brides for Seven Brothers”. (It is true, believe it or not). But first we had to stop at the pharmacy, so I could buy a toothbrush for my little sister, who was starting to brush by herself. He let me stop and let me drop it off for her before we left on our date. He was very patient and kind.

After the movie, we went to a club for a drinks and dancing. While dancing, I stepped on his feet. I was so apologetic. He said, “Don’t worry, they’re not my shoes. They belong to my roommate”. We danced a lot! The place got warm. I suggested he take off his sport coat. He said he couldn’t because he only ironed the front of his dress shirt. The sleeves and back were all wrinkled. A “mess” he said. Then he confessed that the sport coat was also his roommate’s. I wanted to ask him about his underwear. I really didn’t want to know whom that belonged to. So I did not ask.

We had a lot of conversation that night as most people do on a first date. We had a lot in common. However, every piece of clothing that I wore belonged to me. He was a gentleman, a good listener, a good dancer, not great, but good. We knew a lot of the same people. So, I decided, if he asked me out again, I would say yes. If he wanted a kiss goodnight, I would go along with it. We did talk for a long time on the porch, after we arrived at my house. He did not ask me out for a second time that night, and did not make an attempt to kiss me goodnight. What a jerk!

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Stay tuned for Momo9

First off, Shit. Mother Fucker. Stupid Fucking Graco. Son of a Bitch. GodDamn Double Stroller. Where the fuck did I put the wheel cap. Stupid fucking piece should fit right on the wheel. Double Fuck. Graco sucks shit. Holy shit I can't believe that worked. You got to be a fucking midget or have really small hands to put this togehter. Fucking Graco, do they expect the babies to put this thing together?

I feel better now. On Sunday Maxfield helped me put together a new double stroller. Every time I wanted to curse the thing I had to bite my tongue. I just needed to get that off my chest.

I asked my mom, Momo9, to fill in for me for the next few days. Some of you may have read her comments on various posts here and on LW's site. When I asked her to fill in for a few days, she asked me what should she write about. Being totaly inspired by Nilbo's* epic story on his blog, about how his parents met, I suggested my mom tell me/us about her first date with my dad, since I did not know the story. So over the next few days my mom will be posting about her first few dates with my dad.

*Nilbo's blog is very funny and interesting (which coming from me is like a highschool quarterback complimenting Peyton Manning). Nilbo recently has been telling the story of how his parents met. He is up to or around chapter 14. Go back and read it from the beginning. It has Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles... Ok, it does not have all of those things, that is actually from the Princess Bride. But Nilbo's story reads like the Princess Bride but only different.

Monday, August 07, 2006

Those Guys

Do you remember the days, before kids and responsibilities, when Saturday morning was reserved for sleeping in? When Saturday mornings were met with a slight fog of a hangover, a bottle of Gatorade, and Saved By The Bell re-runs. When a hangover was not a reminder of how old you are, but more of a reminder of the great time you had the night before. Do you remember when a the first cup of coffee you would sip on a Saturday morning was at 11:00 am, and you did not make the coffee at your house, you ran out to get it at Mc Donald’s, along with a Sausage McMuffin, before the serving breakfast cut-off time?

Maybe you remember, back in those times, when one of your idiot neighbors would start mowing his yard at 8:30 am. You know the neighbor was one of THOSE GUYS. You would wake to the sound of an engine running, two doors down, and you would say to yourself, “I can’t believe someone is cutting their grass before 9 o’clock.” Or maybe it was a Saturday morning in the fall and you would hear one of THOSE GUYS start his leaf blower, which sounded like a jet engine, at 8 in the morning.

In the winter you knew that one of THOSE GUYS was going to be the first to start his 500-gazillion horsepower snow blower before 8 o’clock because he wanted to get a jumpstart on the 4 inches of powder covering the walks. You would pull the pillow over your head and suffer through the sweet whiskey smell of your own breath trying to drown out the horrible noise. You would think, “What in the Hell does THAT GUY think he is doing? Does he not have consideration for us people who like to sleep in? Asshole.”

Some Saturdays you would stumble out of your room to get a bit of the hair of the dog and you knew you were going to tell one of THOSE GUYS off. Motors and engines should not be allowed to be running before 10 o’clock. There should be a law for crying out loud. And as you are putting on your shoes to go and confront one of THOSE GUYS, you get distracted by couch and decided to lie down for a few minutes, thinking, “I can’t believe someone is cutting their grass before 9 o’clock. Assholes.”

This past weekend, I became on of THOSE GUYS.

Sorry to anyone who may be younger and have less responsibility.

Thursday, August 03, 2006


Yesterday I received a weekly ad flyer from Albertson’s grocery store. I was flipping through it to see what types of sales they were having. I grabbed a pen and a pad of paper to write down some of the items. We usually shop at Publix but on the rare occasion Albertson’s has a good deal I will go there.

“What are you doing?” Lauren asked.

“I am making a list for Albertson’s.”

“Why? Is there anything good?”

“Not really, but look at this.” I held up the paper. “They have these items for sale at a dollar a piece. But if you buy 20 you get an instant five-dollar rebate so it will only cost 15 bucks. And it is not 20 of the same item, you can mix and match.”

“What type of items are we talking about?”

“David’s Sunflower seeds, you know I like them. And Crunch and Munch, Ketchup, Chef Boyardee Ravioli, Manwich stuff. Oh and look, Hunt's diced tomatoes andTomato paste.” I threw the last two in to make a case that I was actually planning on food shopping and not snack shopping.

“We can get tomato paste at Publix cheaper.” She said trying to take the wind out of my sails.

“But look Lauren, they have Microwave popcorn.”

“Bill, we do not need any of that stuff.”

“But Lauren they have Giant Slim Jims for less than a dollar.” Catching myself I added, “Not that I would buy 20.”

“But it is all stuff we would not normally use. It is to get you to buy the name brands when the store brand is just as good and cheaper.”

“I know,” I hung my head and said under my breath, “but they have Giant Slim Jims for sale.”

Lauren rolled her eyes and took a sip of her coffee. “You are such a sucker. YOU are the exact person they try to reach with those ads.”


Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Pet Peeve.

Okay, I understand, if I call you and leave you a message on your voice mail and you call me right back (within 5 minutes) and you have not listened to your message because you just noticed I called on your caller ID and you figured you would just call me back. I get that.

It is a complete other thing if I call you and leave a message on your voice mail and you call me back say like two hours later and did not check you message but you saw that I called on the caller ID and figured you would just call me back. You should have just listened to the damn message. That is what the voice mail is for.

Yes I am cranky today.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Apology to my wife

No woman, when sitting down at the computer table to check her email, should have to say, "Bill this is gross. Is this a finger nail or a toe nail sitting on the table?"

It was a toe nail Sorry.