Glass Ceiling Breaks As Women Across the World Stand Up!

Some products are revolutionary.  They actually change the way we live.  The television, for one.  Computers, for another.  Cell phones and refrigerators and motorcars.

This morning I found out about  a product that is so revolutionary it could actually change the balance of nature.    It mat finally lead to that glass ceiling being shattered.  It will change life as we all know it, and make the world a better place for our children and our children’s children.

Yes, it’s the GoGirl.    

Ladies, no more hovering over nasty toilets in dirty restrooms.  No more squatting on the side of the road on a long stretch of highway with no restroom in sight.  No more being forced to go back to the ski lodge, (one can’t risk ass frostbite, can one?), be forced to choose between quitting that marathon or peeing all over yourself.

No more dates trying to cop a look while you cop a squat.  And no more peeing on your jeans when your form isn’t juuuuuuuuuust right.

Now ladies, you can write your name in snow with the big boys.  You can stand next to them and mark your own territory as they mark theirs by peeing into the  Mississippi River on a drunken trip to New Orleans.

GoGirl lets you do all that!  It’s funnel-like shape with it’s patented spill-guard protection put you in charge of where you pee, not roadside gas station owners.

Sound odd to you?  Well, our Your-A-Pee-In sisters have been using similar devices for years.  It’s time we stood up with them, don’t you think?  And no, using it does not mean you need to let your armpit and leg hair grow.  Not if you  don’t want to!  And yes, you should keep waxing your mustache ( Really, no one wants to see that).

They’re affordable, at only $6.99 apiece or 3 for $18.99.  They’re disposable or reusable.  They’re pink, so they will be easy to see in your purse.

You can even enter their sweepstakes to win GoGirl apparel!  Or you can buy some youself.

We’ve all been looking for that special gift for the women in our lives, and now we’ve found it.  Don’t forget that the  holidays are just a few short months away!

Ohhhh, ladies.  I sense a shift in our world.   Men no longer have this important advantage!

Gee, I wonder how much they’d pay me to get a car wrap like that…

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I am a Screw Magnet

Okay, all of the dirty-minded people to the left, and please move it right along…

I don’t know what it is.  I don’t frequent construction sites, dirt roads or grassy fields.  I ride suburban streets and highways and never park in the far reaches of parking lots.

I am an average driver in an average town on average roads.  Yet I, or more directly my tires, pick up screws far more than the norm.  In a 2 week period last year I came home with three screws – all discovered only when noticing my tire was flat.

I have AAA, so getting them to come out is easy.  They do charge, however, to plug a tire.  The first time a screw followed me  home the tow truck driver tried to charge me $20 for the plug, and I knew I was being overcharged.  I talked him down to $10, and decided to go buy a tire repair kit for $6 in case it happened again.  After all, Husband has an air compressor – it would be an easy (for him) fix.

When it happened two more times in about a week we were glad we’d made the investment.  I was puzzled about how it kept happening, but Husband was convinced that someone in the neighborhood really didn’t like me.  He went so far as to stand outside and announce to whomever might be listening (hopefully the perpetrator) that if he found out who it was that was putting shiny things in my tires, he would rip off their arms and use them to beat the perpetrator to death things would get unpleasant…

Sigh.

That was several months ago, and things have been quiet since.  All my tires have remained intact,  even after we moved and I had to drive by a new home construction site in our new neighborhood every single day.

Things were quiet, until today.  I’d only been out shortly, to go to the cemetery to pay respects to my stepmother on her birthday, and then to lunch with my Dad.  I came home, did some work in the yard, cooked dinner, then went back into the yard to do some clean-up.

As we were walking back towards the house, Husband exclaimed, “Oh my G-D!!!!  You have a flat tire!!!  What is it with you and screws?!!!!”  I walked over and sure enough, right there on top of the tire in plain view was a nice, shiny screw.

As Husband fixed the tire I got treated to a non-stop commentary as Husband debunked his original theory (gee, you really like me!) and came up with a new theory that made me something of the Mistress of Murphy’s Law as pertains to screws.

Well, I do like shiny things.  But I prefer them on my fingers and in my ears, and Husband prefers his screws to remain in his toolbox.

And I think he’s a little disappointed he’s not going to get to tear off anybody’s arms, but life is full of little disappointments.

Did That Really Just Happen?

Kate at One More Thing is doing a weekly carnival of sorts, choosing a topic for other bloggers to write about.  This Last week’s topic is “Did That Really Just Happen?”, but I’m apparently a week behind.  Sue me.

Kate’s life.  As of late.

That’s all I’ve got.

Thank you, Craigslist advertiser!

Dear Craigslist advertiser,

I know you want to get rid of your stuff.  I know there are a brazilian listings in our area, so competition is fierce.   I understand that the furniture is at your estranged husband’s house and you need to get it out of there.

It’s true, I did call to inquire about your “Very nice! leather couch, loveseat, chair and ottoman in very good condition!”  I decided against going to see it, having reconsidered schlepping a half hour to see it, and spending $500 right now when we really could leave the living room mostly empty.

I appreciate you contacting me, telling me that you’ve reduced the price to $250.   I was planning to try and talk you down to $200, and was excited about the prospect of taking the furniture.  I was wondering how we’d get it to the new house. Your husband gave me excellent directions, and your in-laws met me at the door.

What I didn’t expect was the smell of cat that permeated the apartment.  See, I’m allergic to cats.  But I soldiered on into the garage, risking itchy, swollen eyes , in search of a great bargain.  Hey, bairgain shopping is not for the weak of heart…

I was shown the couch.  You remember your couch?  Are you sure?  The one with all of the tears in it that were not shown in the photos, or mentioned in the ad?

See, I don’t care that the loveseat, chair and ottoman are in perfect condition, and no, I don’t want to go into the other room to see them.    I wanted the entire set to be usable.  Silly me.

So I high-tailed it out of there, peeved that I’d wasted my time and gas money to go look at your furniture when if you’d been honest  in your ad I’d never have bothered.

But  I learned a few things:

1.  When buying furniture always ask if they own a cat. No sense in me buying a couch that will make my eyes swell shut.

2.  Ask if  there are any rips and/or tears or other damage to whatever I’m inquiring about. There’s a chance – however slim – that the ad placer will find it less easy to lie over the phone than in writing.

3.  Son apparently isn’t completely done with naps.  He fell asleep in the car on the way there.  Made my heart smile.

So thank you, Craiglist advertiser, for being such an asshat.

I’ve heard of sharpies disappearing, but …

Just wanted to give a shout out to someone who recently visited my blog.

To whomever typed “sharpie in ass” in the search engine and found my blog, thanks for giving me a laugh.  And seriously, dude, just pull it out.

And since you were clever enough to get it up there in the first place, I think I also need to give you explicit directions to immediately toss it in the garbage.

And then go take a shower.

And watch where you sit.  Especially when naked.

See?  I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.  This was an accident, right?

D & A, remind you of something?

What Kind of Fool Am I?

This week the theme of Kate’s informal weekly carnival is “Fools”.   I could just link the posts I wrote about my experience with Son’s school last week and no one could blame me.

But no, that’ wouldn’t be right.  You all deserve new material…

So, the subject is fools.

I am nobody’s fool.  But…

I am a fool for reality TV.

I am a fool for  chocolate.

I am a fool for doggies.

I am a fool that hates clutter but collects it uncontrollably.

I am a frugal fool.

I am a lazy fool.

I am a blogging fool.

I am an over-40, near AND farsighted fool.

I am a fool for my KITCHENAID MIXER.

I am a fool for lobster.

I am a foolish FSU football fan.

I’ve been known to be a dancin’ fool.

I don’t suffer fools gladly, and I have little patience for stupid fools, inconsiderate fools, selfish fools and abusive fools.

I am not a fool for Adam Lambert (he makes my ears bleed), and I’m certainly not a fool for Bret Michaels (though I thank the good Lord that many women are).  I am not a fool for Geraldo Rivera, Ann Coulter or Nancy Grace (all of whom are so foolish as to be caricatures of themselves).

I will not be a fool to anti-aging strategies, fashion (though I adore Project Runway I would never wear any of those creations) or cheesecake (even New York style).

I may not be happy about some of my foolish ways, but I accept my fool-ness.  And being a fool isn’t all bad – I am a fool in love – with Husband, with Son, with life.

And I’d love to be a fool for George Clooney.  It’s okay with Husband – he’s  on my List.

Remind Me To Never Go to Taipei…

From last year's birthday trip to Metrozoo, where his only interest was the restrooms...

Everyone who reads my blog knows that Son’s favorite thing is a restroom.  Ever since he was a baby he has been fascinated by toilets, and they day he discovered a urinal our whole lives changed.  He wanted to be a urinal for Halloween, and whenever you ask him what he wants for his birthday his answer is invariably “A restroom!”

One of last year's efforts. Today's are much more detailed.

Thank goodness he doesn’t  know about this restaurant in Taipei, the brainchild of someone who is obviously a kindred spirit to Son.  Or four years old.

“The servers bring your meal atop a mini toilet bowl (quite convenient, as it brings the food closer to your mouth), you sip drinks from your own plastic urinal (a souvenir), and soft-swirl ice cream arrives for dessert atop a dish shaped like a squat toilet.”

Seriously, who wants to eat food that looks like poop?  Out of a toilet bowl.  While sipping upon one. Here are some more photos, for those who appreciate my not  posting them directly.

I’m one that loves desserts.  But you can bet your ass that I’m not eating ice cream called “diarrhea with dried droppings” (chocolate), “bloody poop” (strawberry) and “green dysentery” (kiwi). But my, how Son would love it!

No, we’ll not be going to Taipei.  But if any of you go, would you please bring Son one of the souvenier urinal cups?  He’d be ever so grateful…

Saving Us From Those Troublemaking Hot Wheels

Today Son was very good at school (after a new trend of misbehavior), so I decided to really acknowledge said good  behavior in an attempt to show that listening and following rules was much more fun than the alternative. We did the hugs and kisses and calls to Daddy, and frequent discussion.  Earlier I had to return something at Target, so while there I allowed Son to choose a Hot Wheels car  (on sale for $.92, by the way).  This wasn’t a reward, per se, but to show that boys that behave have lots more fun.

After returning home we chose to take advantage of the gorgeous weather, so Son, Dog and I went for a walk around  our complex.  As we passed the pool I noticed a (relatively?) new sign posted by the entrance:

“Dogs?  Check.  Cats?  Check.  Skateboards and roller skates?  Check.  And don’t forget those damn toy cars!”

Why Hot Wheels? Are Matchbox cars allowed?  The Barbie Corvette?  What did Hot Wheels ever do to them?

Then I thought that perhaps the Association had become more hip than I, so I checked the Urban Dictionary to see if  “Hot Wheels” had a meaning other than die-cast metal toy cars.  There are apparently a few other meanings, but since I don’t think the Association would be banning hot girls in wheelchairs nor annoying paraplegics, I can’t think of anything they could mean besides these toys.

I’d love to hear your ideas, however creative, as to why they may have been banned.

i’m not even Mentioning the interesting Capitalization Choices.

Whoops.

GOOD MORNING EVERYONE!! IT’S GIRL SCOUT COOKIE TIME AGAIN!!!

“GOOD MORNING EVERYONE!! IT’S GIRL SCOUT COOKIE TIME AGAIN!!!”

That’s how the e-mail from my sister-in law started.

Girl Scout Cookie Time.  A time I anticipate yearly with both glee and dread.  Glee because those yummy Tagalongs and Thin Mints call out to me, and my taste buds are all a-twitter.

Dread because my ass doesn’t need them.  At all.

Still, in the spirit of supporting my wonderful niece I shall sacrifice my ass.

I can’t see it anyway.

You, Too, Can Buy a House in Florida for Under $20,000

I’ve already shared with you one of my favorite blogs – Cake Wrecks.  Wreckporters  scour their local supermarkets, and Flicker, looking for submissions.  I don’t know what it is about this area, but I’ve never seen a wreck in real life, except my godmother’s pile-of -poop-complete-with swarming-flies-wedding cake (oh yes, I wish I hadn’t packed away my photos in preparation for moving, don’t you?). It never ceases to make me laugh, and sometimes even guffaw.  Trust me, no one looks pretty when they guffaw.

A few weeks ago a friend turned me onto another site that has made it’s way into my reader.  It’s a similar type theme blog, but instead of Cake Wrecks it features house listing wrecks.   It’s Lovely!  I’ll Take It! posts listing photos that make you wonder at the  sanity – and commitment to selling – of the people who chose them as representations of their property.  I’ve seen things that no prospective home buyer should.

I was lucky enough to find a listing that was so vile for so many reasons (not the least of which is the nudie shot of the realtor on his website)  I had to submit it.  I’m happy but not surprised that they featured it today.

Go check it out, and while you’re there check out some of the archives.  And please, if you’re ever going to take photos of your bathroom in hopes of selling your house, please flush.