Oh, The Stories She Tells

Meghan — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 15:25:00 +0000

Gosh, I have OH SO MUCH to talk about. Really, really important stuff. But nothing is inspiring me to ~~bore you with it~~ tell you about it. Or at least to tell you about it in a witty, funny, engaging fashion. Which, I know, is exactly what you’ve all come to expect from me, no?

So, I suppose I’ll just START and then we’ll see where this takes us.

Where to begin…where to begin. Let’s see….um…so….um…let’s see…ever heard the one about the Priest and the Rabbi and the Russian? They’re on an airplane and there’s something about a Bible, a Torah and a bottle of vodka? Or something. Or maybe it’s not a Priest and a Rabbi. I think it’s maybe a Jamaican, a German and a Russian. Rum, Beer & Vodka, maybe? Anyway, the Russian ends up jumping out of the airplane after the bottle of vodka. Ha! I know, right? That’s hilarious. Maybe you had to be there for it. It’s a joke my grandfather used to tell. There was another one he used to tell about a Bible Salesman. It was really funny too. You’ll just have to take my word for it, cause I can’t remember it either. And then there was one about an Indian Chief (or Native American Tribal Chief as he would be known today) who had a son who went on a quest (or walkabout, as it would be known Down Under) and never came back. His name was “Falling Rock” and that’s why you see all those signs on the road that say “Watch for Falling Rock(s)” Get it? He was funny. Or, my personal favorite, which I DO remember. Here ya go:

A man was driving along a road when he hit a cat. (See how funny it is already?)

He stopped his car and went to check on the kitty. It was dead. (are you laughing yet?)

The cat didn’t have a collar on, so he knocked on the door of the nearest house.

“Do you have a cat?” he asked

“Yes, why?” was the reply

“I just hit a cat and killed it and I don’t know who it belongs to because it didn’t have tags.”

The woman, sobbing, says “What did the cat look like?”

“It looked like this:

*Photo edited with Picnik’s 1960’s feature. Cause that’s what most of my pictures of my grandfather look like.

Ha! Get it? As if the cat was shielding itself from the impact. Instead of telling her it was orange with white stripes, he SHOWED her what it looked like as he was about it HIT IT? Are you laughing? It was funny, right?

Moving along…I bought a new car seat yesterday. My baby boy has just about outgrown his infant carrier. Plus, my arm is about to fall off from carrying him around in that damn thing. Plus, he sits up now, so he can graduate to sitting in the cart when were at Target to Trader Joe’s, instead of being plopped in the seat, carrier and all. Of course, I went with the top of the line, most expensive Britax Boulevard. Money is no object when it comes to my children’s car seat safety. Just keep your fingers crossed that our tax return is deposited quickly and efficiently into my bank account. So, Zach’s been switched over to Dylan’s Britax Marathon and Dylan’s in the new seat. Until he’s a bit bigger and qualifies for upgrade into a Booster seat, at which point I’ll switch the seats AGAIN. It’s a never ending circle of excitement around here, people.

In other news, here is a current* snapshot of our radar: It’s supposed to rain today. With Thunderstorms. We’re given the possibility of thunderstorms approximately 5 times a year. Only about 1 time a year do they actually occur. Last year, we did not have ANY thunderstorms. Not. A. One. Which is thoroughly depressing to me. I LOVE thunderstorms. I thought I heard a rumble last night, which was very exciting and I would have sprung out of bed and looked out the window, except I’d just gotten back into bed after being up with Zach (which we’ll talk about later) and I did not see any lightning through my curtains and seeing lightning is what’s exciting, because you can’t see thunder and it’s just as easy to lay in bed and listen to thunder, if not easier and warmer, than to get up and look out the window to hear it. Turns out it was a rocket launch from the nearby Air Force Base. Thunder/Rocket. You’d be surprised how often I confuse the two. It’s easy to do at 3:00am.

Oh, and Zach? Won’t sleep anymore. He wakes up approximately 324 times a night. He also DEMANDS to eat, and at 11, 2, 4, and 6 I give in because it’s easier to just feed the little fucker than to listen to him SCREAM. My sweet, quiet, easy child turns into a fierce, starving pain in the ass in the night. I think he might be part werewolf. But don’t tell DJ. He’s already suspicious.

Let’s see…what else. Oh! Dylan has learned to give a “thumbs up”.

Or not. Whatever. Maybe some sort of body part lesson is in order. Apparently they don’t teach thumb/finger recognition on Sprout, Dora, Diego, WonderPets, SpongeBob or The Simpsons. Who knew. Maybe I should stop relying on cartoons to teach him these things. I suppose I could just sit down and teach him, but then that would take away from my blogging time and how important is it for a three year to know the difference between his pointer finger and his thumb, really? I could always explain that his pointer finger is the one he sticks up his nose. That would provide some sort of distinction for him.

The most important thing he’s learned from The Simpsons is this:

The Full Moon

Actually, he learned that from his father, who thankfully did not demonstrate, just coached him from the sidelines. Now Dylan does it all the time. “I’m going to show you my butt” he says as he turns around and drops his drawers. I’m trying to show him how to do it without pulling his pants ALL the way down, so I don’t have to use a blurry spot. You know, because we don’t need to see his junk.

So, I guess that’s it. For now.

*This radar shot was current about an hour and a half ago. It is now raining, but with no signs of thunder. Because I know you’re curious and I’m trying to keep it real.

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

Meghan — Wed, 13 Feb 2008 23:16:00 +0000

Have you ever said something so mind-numbingly stupid that you wanted to melt away and disappear, right there on the spot? This WOULD have happened to me last night if I’d been with people other than my in-laws. What I said was still mind-numbingly stupid, but I didn’t want to melt away. I just laughed and thanked my lucky stars I wasn’t with people I felt the need to IMPRESS, because, let me tell you, what I said was FAR from impressive.

It all started because of this incident:
**Contains footage that will make you close your eyes, cover them with your hands and peek through your fingers, because you just HAVE to see what happens, even though it makes you feel physically ill. It’s like a really bad car accident. You can’t look away even though you REALLY don’t want to see the horrors.**

So, anyway. We were at Ou*back having dinner (can I get a “Whoot Whoot” for the Queensland Salad?!) discussing current events. Like when our kids pooped last, how awful night shifts are for my sister-in-law, etc, when I have the genius idea to bring up the above referenced incident. I’d seen it on TV the night before and had JUST read the article in the local paper. Yes! We saw it! Oh My God, how awful was that? Did it sever a vein or an artery or something? WHAT EXACTLY HAPPENED? everyone says.

Oh, Oh! Pick me! Pick me! I KNOW THIS!!!! I JUST READ IT IN THE PAPER!!! I watch Discovery Health! I’m totally knowledgeable about human anatomy! TOTALLY.

“Well, what happened was, his teammate’s skate came flying up at him and cut across his neck and severed his CARTOID artery. ” Blank stares. “His WHAT?” sayd DJ. “His CARTOID (like CAR-TOYED) artery. Apparently it supplies blood to the brain. Unlike the jugular vein which takes blood away from the brain.” Duh, I think. These losers are SO stupid.
DJ looks at me incredulously and starts to laugh. “I think you mean “Carotid” artery.” “NO”, I say, starting to feel foolish, because I KNOW what the CAR-O-TID artery is. Duh. “The newspaper said it was his ‘CAR-TOID’ artery. And anyway, isn’t ‘carotid’ artery spelled “corotted”?

To make a long story short, people, I’m apparently dyslexic and read “carotid” at “cartoid” and thought there was some new, previoulsy unknown to me, artery in the neck. There is not. And it’s spelled “CAROTID” not “COROTTED.”

DJ said it was the “most un-educated thing” he’s ever heard me say. I guess that’s meant to be a compliment. Right?

And that concludes our anatomy lesson for the day. Unless you want to hear about my cervix, in which case you can just scroll down. Enjoy.

AMomTwoBoys » Human Anatomy Lessons

Oh, The Stories She Tells

Open Mouth, Insert Foot