I thought I could let this pass. It’s not as though I should be surprised. I think the wham-bam is what got me. So I just have one simple question.
Yahoo, have you lost your mind completely?
Here’s the wham: Story number one:
An attorney from Kenya, a Mr. Felix Kiprono, age unkown (I’m afraid to ask, actually) has offered our President Obama fifty cows, seventy sheep and thirty goats for the hand in marriage of his sixteen year old daughter Malia: a young lady he admits “falling for”, from afar, when she was ten years old.
Holy freeholies, Yahoo. This is not a feel-good story! On the creepiness scale, this one not only rings the bell, it blows it clean off and clear across the carnival. He wants to BUY our President’s child! Not only does he want to buy her, it doesn’t sound like he thinks she should have any say in the whole transaction. And he decided he wanted to be her husband when she was still playing with dolls. Disgusting. My favorite line in the story? Continue reading
Conversation between a mom and her 5’ish year old daughter. in the bathroom stall next to me at the Cheesecake Factory restaurant last weekend:
Girl: I want to get a tattoo.
Mom: Don’t you want a matching tattoo, like mommy’s? We could match.
Girl: No. I want to get one with letters, a name. And a heart!
Mom: You want a name? But…
Girl: I know! I’ll get ____’s name, and with the heart, and a swoosh!
Mom: Oh, you don’t want to get your brother’s name tattooed on you.
Girl: Why not?
Mom: Daddy and I don’t believe in getting names of people we love tattooed on us.
A very brief pause…..
Mom: Well, what if daddy dies and mommy wants to get remarried, and then she has daddy’s name on her body? What would my new husband think?
What I wish I’d said through the wall of the stall?
“Honey, just make sure you get it in a place with enough room. I’m thinking your thigh or your back! Then, when you remarry, you can just cross off the prior guy and add the new one!”
No, I didn’t say a word. Saw them at the sink on the way out. Adorable child. All I could think was “we’re doomed.”
Driving home the other night, I was desperately in need of unwinding to the classic rock tunes I’m so used to on one my favorite “Classic Rock” radio stations. The day had been insane, as most of my days seem to be lately. It was a really dark, cold night and as I waited for the heat to come up in the car and seat to heat, I flipped on the radio.
Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick In The Wall” was more than half way through. Not my favorite PF tune, but I kept listening. The final words of the song just barely ended, “How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat your meat!” and then…..”Doot-doot, doot-doot, doot-doot, doot-doot…”
“There’s a port…on a western bay…”
OR HOW I FIXED MY CD EJECT FAILURE ISSUES
I am the family IT guy. Someone clicks on the wrong thing and it’s “Mom! My computer! Help!.” I think I have my own inquisitive nature to blame. And up until now I’d say it was partly that and part my own burning need to understand all of that which I command in my daily life. This includes every computerized gadget we own. It also includes the dog, but he’s proving a much harder subject.
So, over the years, I’ve learned how to understand the ins and outs of html as well as how to keep my PC safe from the evils that lie just beyond my keyboard. I’m paranoid bordering on neurotic about every keystroke and I’ll never, ever, ever click on those flashing ads on the side of my Facebook page. Sadly, not everyone in my household is as vigilant.
This cartoon was in the Chicago Tribune in 1934. Look carefully at the plan of action in the lower left corner. (Someone emailed this to me and I had to repost it.)
We’re battening down the hatches here in New York. The predicted snow amounts keep changing, but it sounds like we are going to get whomped. (pretty sure that’s a technical weather term) The whompage is probably going to be significant, if you base your guess on the screaming blizzard warning that flashed across my iPhone this afternoon.
Knowing that we’re in for it, we decided to see if we could get the one hundred or so year old snow blower a friend gave us working again. It took about four hours of work. Thankfully, I married MacGyver. Equally fortuitous is that we love Campbell’s soups in our household. Let me show you why.
The ancient one. A snow blower from before snow was invented. See the big hole? Yes, it needed an air filter.
Enter Campbell’s Broccoli and Cheese soup! Well, the can part anyway. (we ate the soup first)
Trimmed it down to size and added a bit of wire mesh….
A Scotchbrite pad as the actual filter was next.
A bit of crimpage, and voila! Now we’re ready to rock and roll and blow some snow tomorrow.
Thanks Campbell’s! Soup is good food! (And good machine parts in a pinch)