Think Kit day 13: funny!

Think Kit: When did you laugh out loud? Share a funny or humorous story from this year.

 This is one of those moments wher you might have to be there for it to be funny but...

My friend Baby Girl and I met in the library one morning and we looked like collective Hell. Neither of us had been hanging out the night before and come to find out that neither of us had been drinking. SHE was babysitting for a 9 month old until about midnight. Then her BF had called her at 2 am and had locked his keys in the car in the parking lot where he worked and his second shift just ended- could she please come get him? At his job 45 minutes away... Which she did. I was up late grading papers and then Mac called me in the middle of the night with his problems. And then when I fell back to sleep, the dog woke up and wanted out. So--- we were tired-- which also makes us easy to be punchy and maybe things aren't really as funny as we thought...

So when she took a drink of Cherry Pepsi and missed her mouth and it ran down her chin, and I snot laughed over it and we both went "ewwwwwwwww" at the same time, we giggled again. Then we attempted to high five each other because we said "ewwwwwww" at the same time and we missed the high five. And because we're not so classy to turn a failed high-5 into a low hand slap, we snorted laughed and made "duh" sounds. At which point my principal asked if we were okay as he walked by the library door.  Like little children we immediately stopped laughing and got straight faced and said we were fine.

He kept walking and we took one look at each other and burst out laughing like idiots. And then I tried to sit down on my rolling chair which shot out behind me, I missed and landed on the floor. When Baby Girl figured out I was okay and was laying there laughing, howling, she was gasping for air and... well, as you can see it was just a series of KeyStone Cop moments that weren't that funny...

But I have to say it was a way to turn a bad night and what seemed like a crummy morning into something funny. It was a great way to start the day with huge giggles, guffawing and lough belly laughs with a friend. can't be all bad, right?

Laughter is the best medicine,
Maggie

Think Kit- Day 3-Time to get strange

Today's Think Kit topic: Share the strangest experience of your year. Did you do something new or unexpected, see something out of the ordinary, or have a unique experience? What was so strange about it?

In October I was in a city in the Hoosier state- population 40,000 approx. I was driving through the business/ retail district, along the by-pass, when I saw something funny sticking out the back of a car. I thought, "what is THAT?!?"  I kept trying to get close enough, because what I thought it was I was assuming it COULDN'T be! And then I figured out what it was! And I had to get a picture so someone would believe me. Really. In the trunk of the car. And not just any car but a Chevy Cavalier.

 Guess there's more than one way to skin a...deer.

Who needs a truck anyway?

This certainly falls into the category of weird and strange for me.
Maggie

Who needs a pick-up to haul stuff?

I was driving through a local CITY last Saturday and ended up following this vehicle. I couldn't stop laughing! Hilarious to me!!!!

Sam's apartment

Three weird things in Sam's apartment. And please note that I'm making an observation and not judging.

1. I opened a cupboard that holds towels and other assorted bathroom sundries. It's a very nice, neat and clean, well ordered closet. Except for one weird thing: in a pile in the cupboard was a pile of mismatched socks. Not sure why it strikes me as funny but I usually have my mismatched socks in the bottom of the hamper or in a laundry basket, not stacked neatly on a shelf in a cupboard.

2.Another odd pile: in the living room, on the corner of the floor, was a pile of purses and wallets. And they didn't belong to me. It was a conversation to be had. Nope, he's not a cross dressing (but with my luck with men it wouldn't surprise me and it would figure) and he's not seeing someone else. These are 3 purses that belonged to his ex-wife. His son brought them her to give to a grandmother but he forgot. So the purses were left there. And now they belong to me. One is a Vera Bradly with a matching wallet, and the other is creme-sicle orange Liz Claiborne. Pictures will be forthcoming.

3.I have a key to his apartment. He had it made especially for me. It's pink with a crown on it. and pink sparkles. It says "Princess" on it and it's damn cute. Hey he gave me a key. And something pink and shiny. How cool is that?

Just some odd stuff at his place...

Mags

I have a legit reason for not posting for 4 days

It's all because of the slugs, and I'm traumatized.

I came home from hanging with with Photographer, late in the evening last Wednesday. It had rained. I was talking on the phone and I just sat down on the swing in the yard and gabbed. It had rained, as I said, and the grass was still damp and cool brushing against my legs as I sat swinging on the swing.

When I got off the phone I walked in the house.

And you know that moment when you're used to having wet legs and then dry air hits the wet and it feels all wrong and itchy? I reached to scratch my leg and right there, on my bare skin, on my shin, was a SLUG!! As in a snail with no shell sort of slug.

OMG! OMG! OMG!

I shrieked and jumped around and flung it to the ground and practically hyperventilated. I squashed it with my shoe, on the sidewalk, and just felt all heebee-jeebee about it.

I went into the house, went into the bathroom, and flipped on the light and I saw ANOTHER one on my leg, which I grabbed off with a tissue and then flushed. My heartbeat was about out of my chest and I just felt really ick-o.

And I thought I was going to lose it when I found a third one on my foot. I got it off and then jumped around like an idiot. It was gross and creepy and yucky and it was nasty. I was flinging my body around and just was a mess about it. I had to go upstairs, take off all my clothes and check in the mirror to see if there were more.

I think my heart is finally beating normally right now. Maybe.

And that's why I haven't been able to blog. I was traumatized by a slug family.

Mags

Makes me smile

This is why punctuation is important!

I'm probably going to hell for this, or at least have to have a serious conference with God when the time comes

I called our minister at the church a few weeks ago. I wanted to ask him some questions about a part time job opportunity and to discuss some community service outreach ideas I have. And I wanted to talk to him about Social Media marketing the church. He wasn't in and I left a message.

He finally called me back. Three weeks later. By that time I couldn't remember what I wanted. He had been pretty sick and then on vacation. He swears he didn't the message that I called until that day. I laughed and then said, "Well, in my experience ministers don't usually return calls unless someone's dead, having a baby, getting married or wants to give the church a bunch of money."

Oh yeah, I said it. I can't believe I said it. It was out my mouth before I thought. I stumbled around and apologized profusely and said I didn't mean him specifically and just basically rambled and apologized like an idiot. He laughed and said not to worry and he wasn't offended in the least and sometime just being honest is good. And now he knows how I think and he will always make calling me back a priority. And I apologized some more.

As if that wasn't bad enough...

I remembered a few hours later what I wanted and I sent him a text. I didn't think I could bear another phone call. I simplified what I wanted and he responded pretty quickly and made arrangements to get together in the next few weeks to chat. I thanked him very much for getting back to me so quickly, and apologized again for my earlier gaffe. And said, "sometimes my filter doesn't work and I say stupid shit." Then i hit send. Then I re-read what I wrote.

To the minister.

At this point I should've just given up on the minister, the church, God and went back to the heathen that I was so good at being, or else just took a vow of silence. Or found a new church.

I'm apologizing again now, for the profanity, and he sent back text messages that were HILARIOUS! He actually thought it was funny and said that sometimes "there's no other word that's appropriate except for sh**".

I saw him on Sunday morning and he just started laughing before I could say a word. He said I was hilarious and honest and he appreciated that I just would talk and not have to worry about his "job". I said I could be a little more tactful but he said he was not offended in the least, he thought the whole thing was funny, and to not worry about a thing.

At least God didn't strike me down with a lightening bolt.

Yet.

Mags

I would suck during the Apocalypse

Today we finally had some great thunder and lightening rain showers move through out area. We're officially in a drought, as declared by some federal and state government agencies so it was really nice to have a lot of rain. It was storming sometime in the night and basically rained until late in the afternoon before it stopped.

But with the glorious rainy weather came one pitfall- a power outage. Because we had gusts of wind up to 70mph and all the storm stuff, somewhere along the way, out power went out around 8am and didn't come back until 4pm. Yes, the power was out all day long.

My big plan for yesterday was to do laundry and help Mac with some job applications online. Daddy-O was going to be gone most of the afternoon so I was either going to watch a bunch of tv on the DVR or listen to music really loudly.

Having no power really destroyed all my plans.

First when I got up I kept thinking it would pop on at any moment. When it became evident that wasn't happening, like after I called to report the outage and an automated voice said we were expected to have power back by 1pm, I knew I needed a plan for the day. Starting with coffee.

But I had no power so no way to run the coffee maker.

I couldn't operate a blender without power so I couldn't have my diet shake.

No power meant no hot water to bathe in, and obviously nipped my laundry plan in the bud.

Also, my car was in the garage with an electric opener and no way to get it out to get coffee.

Let's recap, shall we? No power= no electricity= no coffeemaker+ no blender= no coffee+no shake+ no way to open the garage door to get coffee+no hot water for a shower= oh shit. What was going to happen if I couldn't have coffee? Or a shower? How would I live? How would I survive? What would become of me?

Well... I did take a super brief shower with the remaining hot water in the hot water heater, by flashlight, Daddy-O manually popped the latch to get the car out of the garage and we foraged the city for a place with power and coffee.... or we drove thru Hardee's drive thru.

At one point during the day I found Daddy-O crocheting by oil lamp light. Not kidding!

I only had the Internet on my phone and no wireless for my Nook. And when the batteries died on these devices, how was I ever going to re-charge them?

I felt like I was stuck in an episode of Little House on the Prairie!

When the power wasn't back on by 1pm, I called and the new message said the energy company was doing its best to restore itself. And by 4pm they succeed.

But it was touch and to there for awhile. I thought I might be without a mobile phone since the battery light turned red around 3:30pm. And I was running on the last of the Nook battery; I might've had to read *ACK!* a book made of paper!

It was hell. Pure hell.

Thank goodness the power came back on and life was good again. Whew!

Mags

When it rains, it pours... worcestershire sauce

Lesson 1 learned: fiber bars and apple sauce are a deadly. Do not eat them in combination unless you mean business. And yes, I mean that sort of "business".

Lesson 2 learned: Worcestershire sauce stains everything. And I mean everything.

Lesson 3 learned: Do not attempt to cook 3 new recipes all on the same night

Lesson 4 learned: do not wear socks on tile floor after polishing with 409 cleanser and a Swiffer Wet jet, unless you like possible broken bones and have good health insurance. Yeah, go ahead and live on the edge.

Lesson 5 learned: When making homemade friend rice, crack the egg and cook it in the pan completely BEFORE YOU ADD RICE. I'm just sayin'!

The following is a true story because not even I could make this shit up.

This might be TMI and I don't usually talk bathroom but it's a vital part of this story. A few days ago I had not been able to "use the bathroom" other than to pee, for about 3 days so I ate a Fiber One bar. And didn't seem to get any results so about 3 hours later I had applesauce. Just remember that part. Sorry for the "bathroom TMI."

Later that evening, I decide to fix dinner. I want to make a low calorie BBQ sauce and I wanted to try my hand at a low calorie fried rice. And since Daddy-O is doing the shake diet as well, I thought I would experiment with the shake powder since he was a little tired of shakes so I decided to make mashed sweet potatoes using the shake powder as a base and then integrate some other stuff to make it also low calorie. All three new things on one night for the same meal. What the hell was I thinking?

So I'm cooking along; I have a pan on every burner, the oven going, the microwave... and I'm not really following a recipe, just tossing in a bit of this and that, here and there. And as I go to put away the Worcestershire sauce I miss the shelf and the bottle plummets to the kitchen floor. Where it does not break even though it's glass. No, instead, it bounces, jarring the cap off the top and then rolls about 6 feet across the floor, creating a 6 foot long swath of Worcestershire sauce path.

I finally grab the renegade bottle and survey the white linoleum floor and panic. I grab all the dishrags and throw them on the floor and start sopping. I turn the facet on and sop and rinse. It smells something awful. And then I try and sop and clean and finally give up and scream, "dAAAAAAAAAA-AAAAAAAAd come stir shit!" Dad comes in the kitchen and takes one look at the floor and doesn't say a word. He just stirs stuff.

I continue sopping and rinsing when I suddenly have to use the bathroom. The apple sauce and Fiber Bar decide to do their jobs. I take a 10 minute time out to facilitate myself in the facilities. I return to the kitchen and finish cleaning. I finally get it all off the floor which is now sticky- a is the cabinet, the inside of a cabinet door and the side of the fridge. I start wiping the floor, as well as the other surfaces, with 409 and a clean rag.

Finally I can take back over the cooking but I can't get the smell out of my nose. It just FEELS like the Worcestershire sauce is still there, when it's obviously not. Daddy-O and I are dishing stuff up, putting dishes in the sink, filling glasses, when I slip on the floor and about fall flat on my face. Thankfully, I didn't and neither did the carton of eggs I was holding. (Cause of death would've been suicide by cooking disaster)

Finally, finally, finally, after one more trip to the damn bathroom, we sit down to eat. And the fried rice is terrible. It was one of those things that the first bite was unsure, the second bite was okay and then suddenly the third bite was the real thing which caused much gagging and hacking out of the ickiness of it all. I find out later that I was supposed to cook the egg completely before adding my veggie rice mixture. I want to point out right now that the recipe I had glanced at online earlier that day didn't say to do that. I'm pretty sure it didn't, anyway.

Mashed sweet potato was pretty good and the BBQ sauce was STRAIGHT ON! But the smell of Worcestershire wouldn't go away, and even Daddy-O could smell it. I finally relaxed and crossed my legs to notice dried rivets of brown, streaked up and down my shins and calves of my lily white Irish skin! It was the reverse Michael Jackson!!! Ack!

No wonder we kept smelling it. During the splash down and clean up, it apparently splashed ON me. And this stuff stains, people! I'm not kidding! That sentence could be written "this stuff stains people" because it does. I washed my legs with hot soapy water and scrubbed until I was a pinkish, brown streaked pale white, then I rubbed my legs with lotion. I smelled like Japanese Cherry Blossom but not the way that Bath and Body works intended!

Lessons learned. Crickets, take my wisdom and don't try to learn these on your own. You've been warned.

She who is back to plain pale legs now,
Mags

If this were the case, then please, arrest me!

*** Edit*** I had a cartoon image here an nothing else but I was getting comment that no one could see the image; hence, the explanation. I have no idea why I can't get the image to show here- I can see it. Weird.

Basically, it was a cartoon picture of a woman, drinking coffee, and saying to another woman in a conspiring tone, "So then they handcuffed me and said 'Anything you say can and will be used against you' so I said 'Johnny Depp.'"

I thought that was awesome!

New meaning to 'dead putt'

I think we should conserve land and build gold courses on top of cemeteries. Yep, I do. I think cemeteries are a waste of land but people seem to need them (and that's okay!!!) and since we don't live in a police state with mandatory cremation (yet) I think we could combine golf courses with cemeteries.

Follow me here.

First, it would have to be a no stone cemetery, obviously because golf balls can't be whacking into head stones; that would be a very unsatisfying hazard. That wouldn't make for a fun game at all. To address the matter of the missing headstone, I say that at each tee box, there should be a plaque with a list of names of people buried on that fairway, at that particular hole. There's one one special spot to go, but an entire area for that hole.

Second, loved ones can't leave flowers just willy-nilly all over the ground at a golf course so there could be a chapel where people can leave flowers. The names of the golf course buried are engraved on the walls of this chapel and it would be open to the families anytime the golf course is open.

Third, I think the golf course should be closed every Tuesday from 11am- 4pm for burials. One day a week, all people are buried so it can be open the other 6 days. I also think that after the burial and the families leave, then the graves are covered over, mashed flat and sod it laid down and watered. Grave maintenance is also done on this day- say, adding more dirt and sod to a sunken spot, engraving at the tee boxes, and that sort of stuff.

No one gets buried on a the putting green or the driving range.

It's just an idea. I think there are avid golfers who might actually go for it.

Mags

Major League Baseball will not be recruiting us any time soon

Mac and I share the attic and last night he was picking stuff up to head out with some friends, waiting for a ride, while I was sitting in bed reading. We were talking (actual chatting and not yelling). I was also eating left over Easter candy and asked if he wanted a mini-Reese Peanutbutter Egg; of course he said SURE- I mean, who wouldn't want one?

He was standing a good.... 25 feet from me. I was sitting under a slanted ceiling. There were ceiling fans, and between us a lamp. And he was sitting and I sorta couldn't see him very well, mostly just his hair. I told him I toss one over but to beware. It went about 10 feet and smacked the side of his computer. This was the worst throw in history- or so I thought. We laughed and he got it from the floor, and went back to where he was sitting. He asked for another and I attempted another toss. This one smucked the ceiling and landed on the floor at the foot of MY bed so it traveled a whole 5 feet. I was about hysterical and Mac got that one and then sat on my bed and thought he would try his aim, just to see if he could hit his queen sized bed on the other end of the entire attic, which runs the length of our house.

Mac wasn't much better. He managed to bounce it off his laundry hamper and down 2 stairs. The beds are on the far left of the room and the staircase is on the far right! This was completely in foul ReeeseCup Territory. We were both laughing to the point of tears, which probably didn't help matters any. His second one went on the floor in the middle of the room; he blamed it on the fact it was one that was already thrown and it had "smushed trajectory" working against his throwing arm. I told him one more and he managed to tattoo that sucker right into the center of his bed. It only took 5 tries before it reached it's destination.

All were a bit crushed, but still entirely edible. And lots of needed laughs were had... squishy candy and giggles with my kids. Cool.

Mags

I don't want to sub as a career even if I am good at it

I am a good substitute teacher and I wish that kids would be given a memo ahead of time to not give me crap like they do other subs.

I spend about 10 minutes of each class the first half of the day dealing with typical "sub" nonsense and then they settle down and realize I'm cool and they shouldn't be stupid. The afternoon classes are usually much smoother because the words gets around that I'm a good sub.

I maintain classroom control and I will implement the rules of the regular classroom teacher if they leave me their list of norms. If they don't, then I do my own thing.

I'm only available to sub on Fridays. Now, I realize that kids are kids and they have to push it with a sub and since they have a sub AND on a Friday to boot, they are usually wild. Or try to be. I have a lot of tolerance and patience because I know this is the case. I'm realistic and I don't try to have some lofty expectations of how kids will behave with a sub. I know they want to pull stuff. I KNOW this and I am so flexible, as long as the kids basically follow the rules and don't act like idiots. I also work with kids every day so I know what's what.

One advantage I do have is that I've subbed enough that when the kids see me, they "know" how I operate and usually come into class without the "torture the sub" attitude. And kids who haven't had me before are usually in classes with kids I've had so they're set straight pretty quickly.

I always try and do the lesson plan 100%. If the teacher doesn't leave specifics I always tell the kids if they're quiet and work hard as a unit, then they can have the last 10 minutes of the period to talk, as long as they keep it to a dull roar. Sometimes I let the kids work in groups for half the period. And unless the teacher says otherwise, I tell the kids their assignment is due at the end of the period and I'll collect it and it will be graded and if they're "good" I reward them with making is homework- it's a good bribe and 99% of the time ensures that the kids work diligently.

I do have some of my own rules. If a kid doesn't have the supplies s/he needs for a class I will NEVER let him/her go to a locker for that. Extra homework to do in another class because they got the assignment finished, yes, but because of being ill prepared- NEVER!. They can't go to the bathroom unless practically doing the pee-pee dance. No passes to go get an ipod or to a class to see another teacher nor to the school library. I tell the kids they're in with me for better or for worse for 50 minutes. I don't let the kids sleep. I prefer they really don't talk much until the time I give them to talk. I will let the kids listen to an ipod if they are to be doing silent work or if it's non-disruptive- if I hear it then I consider it DISRUPTIVE! Other then these, and the teacher's rules, I'm easy going. They can sit next to friends after I take attendance. I expect them to not swear but they can quietly talk. It's a Friday. I'm a sub. Let's be real. I'm a glorified babysitter paid to keep order, make sure no one kills each other, nor runs away. That's it. If I can get work out of them, even better.

I subbed yesterday and one kid was a total dork. First he came to class late and I didn't mark him tardy. It's too much of a pain in the ass for a sub to mark tardies and I don't care enough to do that much paperwork, so it's a gift to the students from the subbing gods. Then he said he didn't have his chemistry book and wanted to go to his locker. I said no because he knew he was supposed to have it so he found an extra on a shelf. Then he proceeded to unwrap cough drops and then have to pass them around to his friends. Then he laid his head down and proceeded to do nothing but fall asleep. When he snored, I woke him up and told him to get busy. I'd already written down the sleeping, the no book and the being late because now I was pissed and felt taken advantage of.

He looked around and saw others listening to ipods and he asked if he could. I told "Mikey" no because he hadn't done anything all period long and ipods were a reward. Another kid asked me for help and after I helped her I walked by Mikey's desk and that little shit had his ipod out. I took it away from him and told him to see me after school. He said he thought I was kidding when I said no and I said I wasn't.

At the end of the period I gave the ipod to the science department chair who said he would turn it in to the office. He found me later and told me that Mikey was busted with his ipod earlier in the day and now his father would have to come get it and have a meeting with the assistant principal since he was in trouble for this once already. So Mikey came to me and I sent him to the other science teacher (as instructed). Dumb kid!

What was so funny is that the other kids gave Mikey grief because I told him no and he's stupid because I'm "the cool sub". They were mad at HIM because they thought I might get mad at them because of him (nice pronoun usage there, eh?)! Kids are so funny.

After I sub for a day, though, I feel exhausted. I feel like I was hyper vigilant all day long, watching for evil and wrong doing. I have to pretend like I care they have their cell phones out or are passing notes. I pretend I don't see as much of it as I can until they do something stupid.

Which is at least once a day in my presence. Gee, I just love subbing.

Maggie

She did NOT say that?! Oh yes she did!

I've decided I hate teenagers--- at least I do today.

I wrote a demerit on a kid today. Writing a demerit is about the worst punishment any teacher can dole out. While this doesn't seem like a big deal, it really is. As I've mentioned in the past, I work in a school that's like a reform school so the kids have to earn privileges. Getting demerits causes them to lose privileges. And won't let them participate in extra- curricular activities. And if they get enough demerits then they can end up in "Friday school" which is an extra 3 hours of school instead of having free time off. So, it really is a big deal. And if a kid is a brat or has a bad day or is a brat (did I mention if a kid is a brat?) then s/he can get a bunch of demerits during the day from various teachers for various things.

In the building there are teachers who are known to give out about 5-10 a DAY. I think that's stupid and to me it shows the teachers have either given up or, more likely, have ZERO classroom management skills. There are 4 steps a teacher can take before handing out a demerit and I think a demerit is the lazy way of disciplining a student. The other 4 things involve TIME and PATIENCE while a demerit is easy.

Because I'm the librarian I don't have 4 ways to discipline a kid because our discipline program is set up for teachers. And, frankly, it's really a non-issue because I very VERY rarely have issues with kids in a negative way.

I'm supposed to give demerits for overdue books but I usually do something different and use this as a last resort. I have overdue books at my public library and that doesn't usually ruin my entire week so I hate to do that to the students. I find if I have to give a demerit for an overdue book it's because I've asked the kids for the book about 3-4 times, I've given them written "reminders", I've asked their fellow housemates to help them find the book, I've done a locker search, and I've talked to the adults who oversee the house where the kids live. After all this, if the kid doesn't give me the book, then I will write a demerit. In the year I've done this job, I've given 7 demerits for overdue books. I will also give a demerit if kids behave in a shitty way toward me about their overdue books- I wrote 1 for this. So in one year and 2 months, I've given 8 demerits for overdue books and each kid knew it was coming.

Now, as far as writing a demerit because of a discipline problem... well. I've done it one other time. Yes, one. And today made twice.

The girl student was pissy with her classroom teacher and brought her crummy attitude into my library. And she was snippy to me and I let it go. "Feh" I thought. She got a book. She sat down. She read (or stared at the book, pretending to read). Her teacher gathered the class and girl student made some nasty comment under her breath (that I didn't hear) to her classroom teacher. She smacked her library book on the counter. I picked the book up and handed it back to her and said something like, "hey be nice to the books. They didn't do anything to you." And she proceeded to throw the book AT me (I ducked) and she yelled at me, "SUCK IT!!!" and she flounced out of the library.

Oh yeah, she said that.

Oh yeah, I wrote a demerit.

Guess who now has Friday school? She can suck that.

Mean Maggie

What the dead know

I have a great recipe of my late mother's for a sour cream coffee cake. I've waxed poetic about this coffee cake on multiple occasions over the last 5+years I've been blogging. This is some seriously good food.

I've made this cake several times over the years. I don't usually make it on just Christmas like my mother always did; I make just about any time I get a craving for it. It's an easy recipe to make and not super time consuming either so I don't struggle too much.

The worst part of making this is taking it out of the pan. I make it in an angel food cake pan. My mother's recipe suggests this pan or a Bundt. It also says that after about 15 minutes to slide a butter knife around the edge, and I do. And around the thingy in the center and I do that, too. And it says to flip it on a small drinking glass... I do not do that. I usually just flip it on a cooling rack and then turn it onto a fancy cake plate. I want it to drop perfectly onto the rack. I don't want it to break, crumble or crack. In all the times I've made this cake the last several years, it's come out PERFECTLY. Never have I messed it up. Ever. It's been picture perfect every time- like photograph it for a magazine perfect.

The last time I made it, I even commented to Daddy-O that I couldn't understand why my late mother always complained about hard it was to make. It's easy, I thought. I also said I couldn't understand why she always had it fall apart, more times than not, when mine always came out perfectly. He and I snickered about it, not in a mean way, and ate the picture looking cake I managed to always bake.

Until yesterday... damn it!

I made it for breakfast yesterday morning. I used the same ingredients that I always use. I'm not kidding on the 'same ingredients' thing either. I buy the same name brands all the time. I use the same bowls and measuring utensils. I measure every single item, every single time. I use the same mixer. I do the recipe steps in the same order. I use the same oven. I even use the same CAKE PLATE! I never deviate. I even have a special weird way of greasing the pan and I do it the same way. This is almost OCD/ ritualistic in the making of the sour cream coffee cake. I want to make it clear that I didn't buy different sour cream, or use old flour or eyeball an amount rather than measure or mix longer or shorter. I did it all the same as I always do.

Because I live in the Midwest, weather/ climate/ altitude doesn't really matter. And, to error on the side of over-explanation, I've made this all times of the day- morning, afternoon and evening. I've made it in all seasons: winter, summer, spring, fall. I've made it when it's been raining or snowing or hot or cold or humid. I've run the gambit and it's never, EVER been an issue.

So WTF happened today?

If I did it all the same way, with nothing amiss, then why did it crumble, split, crack and fall out in chunks? I'll tell you why:

My other!

She heard me brag on myself, and gently razz her memory about it, and then she sabotaged it.

Stop laughing! I'm serious! I didn't see a ghost or apparition or anything of the supernatural sort, but I think she 'heard' me say what I said about it being perfect and then decided to wreck it the next time I made it. Which she did. She never did like to be teased about her cooking...

Teach me to be all full of myself!!!

Hey, it's the only logical and plausible explanation of the wrecked sour cream coffee cake because until yesterday, I always made it perfectly. Every good streak comes to an end... but not usually by virtue of my dead mother!

Seriously!
Maggie

My life as the sequel to the Scott Pilgrim movie

Mac thinks it would be great if my life could be like the Scott Pilgrim movie. In the movie, Scott Pilgrim meets the girl of his dreams, Ramona Flowers, and to be with her he has to defeat all her evil ex-boyfriends. This is now one of Mac's favorite movies; he even got it for Christmas on Blu-Ray. He thinks it would be cool if I met my soul mate who then had to battle and kill all my evil ex-boyfriends.

He said all my exes are fat so they don't need physical prowess--- well, the Gay Cowboy was skinny but the rest are on the heavier side.

The Soul Mate has certain challenges per ex-BF, according to Mac:

• The Canadian is Canadian so there's the challenge right there
• ITSam would try to sue the Soul Mate and probably stalk me for the rest of my life so the battle would be to kill him without leaving a paper trail
• The Gay Cowboy (a guy I dated when I lived in the Wild West) is tricky because he was a cowboy, a construction worker, a fireman and, it turned out, gay. Soul Mate must call out the Village People for help. And Soul Mate must win because if he loses there will sodomy. Lots and lots of sodomy. Yuck!
• The former BF who was alcoholic-druggie-unemployed-poet... well, he's all cleaned up and Mac thinks he shouldn't be offed any more so he can just be a friend of Soul Mate...
  
• Sperm Donor is the most evil of all. He thinks that blogging, according to Mac, is for whining liberals who control the media so he wouldn't even know about Soul Mate to begin with since he's a closed minded, small minded, Republican. Unless, that is, my blog shows up on the FOX News Website, which he only watched to criticize

What I find to be the funniest of Mac's diatribe is that he thinks I'll find a Soul Mate!

Mac's mom,

Maggie

My life is a comedy of errors

Part I:
I decided to take the day and just relax. I went to the public library and read books and visited with some of my favorite staff people. It was nice to just be in a different atmosphere.

Then I decided to go to Starbucks and sit and read. Hey, don't judge me- I have a good book and was just tired of being home. So I drove to the nearest Starbucks, which is the next town over, about 25 minutes away. I got my favorite Venti Peppermint Mocha and sat there and read for a few hours. Then I decided to drive home. I went to the car and it wouldn't start. The head lights came on and the dashboard lights and the radio but the car wouldn't start. It didn't click or grind or anything. Just no noise at all, just lights. Weird.

I looked under the hood and jiggled wires and it still wouldn't start. I went inside to see if anyone had jumper cables and no one did.

I was standing in the parking lot, contemplating a 1 block walk to Auto Zone when a redneck guy pulled up in a big 'ol pick up. I asked him for help and he had the jumper cables. Of course he did since he wore camo pants, 3 flannel shirts, an orange day-glo hunting had, three days of beard growth on his grizzly face, and no teeth. But hell, he had jumper cables! And that didn't work.

Part II:
After the bourbon breath guy couldn't get my car started I decided to walk to the Auto Zone. I crossed the parking lot and saw an open garage. I went there and told the mechanic what was going on. He was closing the shop so he drove over with some tools and he tinkered around and it wouldn't start.

He said it was either the badly corroded wires or the starter. If it's badly corroded, then he'll fix it tomorrow for free. If it's the starter, I'm screwed for the tune of $175 UP FRONT.

And, here's a weird thing. I got the guy's business card and then just handed hi m the keys to my car. A perfect stranger. I just handed them over.

Now, let us pray for corrosion. Or that the car gets stolen (isn't that what insurance is for?).

Part III:
Now I'm stranded about 25 minutes away so what else can I do other than I call father. Who agrees to be my hero and come get me. As I hang up and get ready to go in Starbucks to sit and wait, friends of mine come out! They live in my town! They will give me a ride! Hallelujah! (<---- appropriate verbiage since the friend is a minister!)

I call dad back to tell him I don't need the ride, run inside to tell Starbucks about my car so it doesn't get towed, take a quick trip to the ladies room and then hitch it home.

Part IV:
Because if I didn't have bad luck, I would have no luck so I'm pretty sure my car will not be stolen overnight and it won't be just corrosion, I have to figure out how to come up with money. I decided the option that makes most sense is to return the Nook I bought myself (yes, I bought a Nook and have yet to blog about it! But I thought I was od-ing on the book/ reading posts so I was giving it some time. Anyway, I digress...)

I decide I'll return the Nook and Daddy-O gave me a leather cover and some other accessories. If I return all of that, I'll almost have the cost of the car. I have my Nook receipt and the box, and even the original bag.

What I don't have is the box the leather cover came in. I thought I threw it in a trash bag with the Christmas wrapping paper. Which was already taken to the trash, to the curb. Uh-Oh! No, but wait!!! Good news- tomorrow is trash day! Uh wait! Bad news- Daddy-O cleaned the garage trash out and just chucked it into the car, not in a bag.

So with a flashlight and extra garbage bags, father and I go out into the dark to dig through the trash at the curb. We do. It is gross. I wanted to puke. The box is not there.

And something wet and sticky and indescribable got on my hand. I probably have dysentery and gangrene and pneumonia and tyrotoxism! And I have no box for the leather case.

I'll call the garage tomorrow and see what the damage is.

Gee, things are always eventful here.

This is what I get for taking a day off.

Maggie

Christmas Giggles

From my house to yours, Happy Christmas!

Peace and joy to you all this season!

Pink lipsticky kisses to you all,
Maggie

A holiday story of Polyurethane

I bought a spray can of Polyurethane to spray on rocks that kids painted in art club last week. I've never used such a product before. It comes in a can like spray paint, an aerosol can.

I read the back of the can and it says to remove the safety seal before spraying. I take off the lid and see there's a red dot on the nozzle area so I thought that was the safety thing. In trying to take that off, I sprayed myself: my sleeve and my hand and my fingers. Shit. Well, upon further inspection, the red dot is where the Polyurethane comes out and the safety seal was the plastic wrap on the can which I had to take off to even read the instructions. Go figure.

I sprayed the rocks and then went to the lady's room to wash my hands. I used hot water and soap and dried my hands. My hands were a little tacky and a little shiny but I didn't think anything about it.

When I got to my desk, I worked on my computer for about 20 minutes and when a student came in to hand me a book, I reached out to take it from him and... wait for it... the mouse stuck to my hand. And not just stuck and then plunk to the desk but STUCK to the point where I had to PEEL it from my hand and left sticky residue and skin on the MOUSE!! Holy shit, I polyurethaned the mouse to my HAND!!!!

That was not good.

I went to see our janitor and she gave me a bottle of chemical that we use to wash a dry erase board. So I sprayed it on my hand and it dried and my hand was no longer sticky or tacky BUT it burned like hell. I practically ran to the bathroom and washed my hands with water as hot as I could stand it and more soap. I washed and scrubbed.

When I was done, my hand was white. I mean, really white like notebook paper. Bloodless, all Edward Cullen like.

I put on hand lotion and pretty soon my flesh color came back but it was weird. I was also sans- polyurethane, and I remembered to clean my mouse, too.

Oh.... the rocks looked awesome.

Reason #243 why I shouldn't be allowed to do art projects,
Maggie

Twitter conflict

Well, I was laying in bed last night and I wrote an entire blog post in my head. Usually I jot down a few words or ideas when that happens but i wrote the entire post in my head and it never dawned on me that I'd forget an ENTIRE POST. WTH?!? I can't for the life of me remember what it was at all. I hate that!!! I feel like I'm losing my mind when I do things like that. So, this is not what I was going to blog about but it's better than nothing. And maybe my 'brain fart' will recover and I'll remember what I wanted to say.

So I follow someone on Twitter who's called 'nachosarah'. I don't know anything about her (or even him?) but she's funny. She says these one liners that make me giggle. Last night she Tweeted the following: "I bet Dalmatians are just thrilled about being the dog breed that has to fight fires." My first thought was to Tweet back at her: "Talk about a hot dog..." or my alternative Tweet back to her was "Better than being the dog breed that is associated with hot dogs."

Okay, I thought both of my responses were funny. And I think that while they aren't outwardly guffaw worthy, I think they at least merited a chuckle with an eye roll. I think people who know me probably would've at least smiled. But I didn't respond to her because she doesn't know me. And because she doesn't know me I wasn't sure she'd get my sense of humor and would think I was being a smartass. And I do not want to be in a Twitter war because my attempt at humor fell flat. I don't want her to think I was stupid, either.

Now, I thought I could Retweet her comment with my comment but again, i didn't want her to pick on me if she thought I wasn't funny. Big problem I often have when I write is that I'm trying to be funny or wittily sarcastic and it comes across more as mean or smarmy. There are tons of blog posts I've written and tossed because I was afraid no one would laugh.

I like to make people smile and giggle. I thought if I had any talent I'd do stand up but I can't imagine being up there and doing my thing and getting to the end and no one cracks a smile. And I'm not really a 'joke' person- as a matter of fact, I HATE to be told jokes- but I like to tell funny stories. I finally even made a label for some of my blog posts called "funny stuff" so people might realize it was supposed to be HUMOROUS. Now, I knew I was pushing it with the bellybutton post, walking a fine line between funny and gross and I think most people weighed in on gross (sorry about that!) and sometimes that happens in the world of writing funny. But there are times I think "hahahahahahahahaha" and no one else does.

And that's why I didn't write about about hot dogs to 'nachosarah'.

And the post I wrote in my head last night was much better than this one.

Maggie