Don’t Gotta Wear Shades

4 05 2010

Sometimes I worry about the future. Not in a “I’m going to die” kind of way, but in a “what’s wrong with kids these days” way. Yeah, I know. But we’ve already established my geezerhood, so I might as well roll with it.

Today I was at a convenience store, picking up a Dr. Pepper and a dark chocolate Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. Don’t you judge me. I was stuck in line behind two guys–probably in their late teens–who, as best I could tell, had been dropped on their heads as children. Multiple times. I felt sorry for the poor cashier helping them…until she started talking.

“Those guys asked me how to make a upper-case cursive L. I told them, ‘My name is Veronica Hancock. How would I know?'”

How, indeed? Honestly, people, I’m flummoxed. I don’t even know what to write here. It’s bad enough that all three of them have no idea how to write cursive, but to actually admit it to another person? No. Not okay.

Gah. Just…gah.

*If you’re either too young or too old to recognize the reference in the title (and you want to know why I’m using poor grammar) go here.

**I should rename my blog “Blogging Without Pants.” They’re all in the wash again. Aren’t you glad I don’t video blog? Yeah, me too.





Get Off My Lawn!

26 04 2010

In case you’re wondering, I am wearing pants tonight. I’m sure you’re all kinds of relieved.

I live across the street from a high school.  Today, as I pulled weeds (I know! I think I have some kind of neurological condition that’s completely changing my personality.), I took a moment to observe the high school kids across the street and spent the rest of the day humming “I’m Glad I’m Not Young Anymore.” (It’s from Gigi, people. If you didn’t know that, it’s time to brush up on your 1950s musicals. Also? Stop judging me.)

The one thing I hate about living across the street from the high school is the amount of trash that blows into our yard. Apparently none of the students understand the purpose of a garbage can, which brings me to the moment I realized I’m an old fart: I actually considered collected all the garbage from my yard for a month and taking it to the high school administration.

Holy crap. I’m pretty sure the next step is to start spraying kids with a hose every time they pass my house. That actually sounds kind of awesome. I might just enjoy this whole “getting old” thing.

*Even WordPress knows Gigi. Is WordPress smarter than you?





I Can’t Find My Pants

25 04 2010

Seriously. I think they’re in the laundry but I’m too lazy to go look, so I’m blogging with no pants. I am wearing underwear, though. I don’t want you thinking I blog commando, because…eww. Of course, now you’ve all stopped reading because you’re too busy vomiting. Let me know when you’re back.

Okay, then! Let’s move on (even though I’m still not wearing pants). Today I’d like to you to take a gander at a sign I photographed for you last week.


Let’s review, shall we?

Am I missing something?





All By Myself

20 04 2010

I just realized that’s the second post this week with “myself” in the title. Wow. Could I be any more self-centered? Of course, it’s my blog, and if I want to be self-centered, I will! Niener niener.

Car is going out of town tomorrow. When he first asked if it would be okay (ages ago) I said sure, why not? The silly man believed I meant it, and now I have to be all alone with two kids until Saturday night!

I’m obviously feeling very emphatic, based on the number of words I’ve italicized so far.

Except I won’t be totally alone, because I’ll probably spend a few nights at my parents’ house. Plus, he’s only going to be gone until Saturday–less than four days.

It’s entirely possible I’m just jealous that he gets to sleep for three nights. By himself. In the dark. Maybe I’ll call his cell phone in the middle of the night so he can hear Little G screaming. Would that be so wrong? I think not.

So be forewarned: The next few days of blog posts will be fueled by loneliness and self-pity.

Oh, crap. I just realized that means they won’t be any different from all my other posts. And yet…you’re still reading. Suckers.

Since you are still reading, I want to tell you all how much I love my readers. I’m going to make a real effort to start replying to your comments, because I don’t want you to think that I’m not paying attention.

While I’m at it, I really think you should read this hilarious post. It’s short, sweet and pee-your-pants funny.

*Shut up, WordPress editor. Niener is a completely legitimate word.





How Do You Sizzler?

19 04 2010

Before I get started, I just have to say how much I love you guys. You have no idea what your comments mean to me. (If I actually replied to comments, you might have an idea, but this is a lot easier.) I’m happy to report that today is a much better day. I also have an appointment with my therapist next week. Hurrah!

There’s a billboard I’ve seen several times that annoys me on many levels. Take a gander:

There are so many problems here I barely know where to start. No, that’s not true–let’s start with Sizzler is not a verb. Sizzler will never be a verb. When I see Sizzler used as a verb, I feel like I’m looking at the Engrish website.

Also? This guy used to Sizzler with his dad? If Sizzler were a verb, I don’t think it would be something you’d want to do with your dad.

Then there’s the superfluous ellipsis. Oh, superfluous ellipsis, how I love thee. You make every sentence wonderful! Whenever I use you, I feel like a teenage girl again. A teenage girl with a cell phone and a twitter account. (OMG…@JustinBieber…ur so hott…cu l8r!)

Seriously. What purpose does this ellipse serve? Is it building suspense? He Sizzlered* with his dad and now his…therapist’s kids are attending Ivy League schools?

I have a better idea:

Don't try to steal this. I will totally Sizzler you.

Yes, I did spend an hour learning Gimp just so I could doctor that photo for you. I wanted to add in a mutant baby peeking over the guy’s shoulder, but it’s 2 a.m. and I need my beauty sleep. FYI, do yourself a favor and never do a Google image search for mutant baby.

*The only thing better than a fake verb? A fake verb in the past tense!
**The only thing better than the past tense of a fake verb? The WordPress editor’s suggestions for an alternative. It’s like reading the lyrics to a Snoop Dogg song!





Name That Blog!

17 04 2010

I like the name of my blog. My first choice was actually “French Fries with Pepper,” but that was already taken. I know, right? Both are song titles by an amazing band, Morphine. If you haven’t read the reasoning behind my blog name, read the last paragraph here.

Tonight I’m having second thoughts about the name, largely due to the fact that I spent the evening with a roomful of bloggers. Common question: “What’s the name of your blog?” I got a few weird looks when I replied, “Like Swimming.” And I felt a bit silly giving a name that requires explanation when most people have amazingly simply names. 

So tonight I’m trying to decide if I’d be better off calling it “A Lot Like Swimming” instead of “Like Swimming.” It seems a little more user-friendly. Of course, I naturally rebel against anything that might make people enjoy my blog. I also like the simplicity of “Like Swimming.”

Basically…I haven’t a clue what I’m doing here. I’m aware this isn’t news to any of you, but I’d appreciate it if you’d pretend it is.

I know! Let’s have a poll!

*Yet again, no writing errors. I’m a goddess amongst bloggers.





Odds and Ends

14 04 2010

First I’d like to thank everyone for your input on the whole “what should I call my husband” issue. I’ve decided to ignore all of you and just call him “Car.” If you know him, that makes sense. If you don’t, it probably sounds really weird, but I’m okay with that.

Next order of business: I’m disappointed to report that Pixi Boggle will not let me use the word penis. How is the word penis worse than anus? I’m so confused. Also, thanks to my blog, I now know that “anus” ranks in Car’s top 20 least favorite words. Regular readers and close friends will understand that I feel morally obligated to use the word anus as often as possible from now on.

I pulled weeds for 2 hours today. That may not sound like a lot, but I have the health problems of an 80-year-old (Arthritis! Tennis Elbow! Plantar Fasciitis!*) and will probably be crippled tomorrow. (Did you like the exclamation points? I feel like they made my physical complaints sound more interesting.)

I think the last time I pulled weeds was about…oh, 5 years ago. Possibly longer. But I looked at my tulips desperately trying to peek out from the weeds, and guilt got the better of me. The only thing sadder than tulips made invisible by weeds? Discovering said tulips were apparently propped up by the weeds, and are now lying limply on the dirt.

Whilst pulling weeds, I ran across this:

I showed it to Big G, who promptly demanded we find the snake. Here’s the thing–I don’t have a problem with garden snakes. They eat bugs, and I despise bugs with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. So snakes = good. My sole issue with snakes is that they tend to scare the crap out of me. I’ll be staring at some flowers, or pulling some weeds, and BAM! SNAKE! (If this wasn’t a family-friendly blog, I would totally have a Samuel L. Jackson moment right now.)

I startle easily. I’m like a deer that way. Plus I have big, brown eyes. And a tendency to leap in front of moving vehicles, but that’s a whole separate post.

Can you tell I really don’t know where I’m going with this? Cut me some slack. It’s almost 3 am.

I gave Big G a bottle of bubbles to play with while we were outside. Little G, of course, had to pour them out all over the porch. You’d think he killed Big G’s favorite puppy from the horrified screams that issued forth. Then Little G grabbed the bubble wand and put it up by his lips. I thought, “Oh, how cute! He’s going to try to blow bubbles like his brother!” Obviously the physical activity addled me considerably, because I think anyone over the age of 5 can guess what happened next: he put the bubble wand in his mouth. Which leads to:

Today’s proof that I’m a terrible mother.
1. I giggled when Little G coughed and gagged. Hey, bubbles are non-toxic.
2. I also giggled when our dog, Tigger** (leashed to one of the posts in the front yard) did a left-to-right sweep and clotheslined both kids.
3. I took a nap when Car got home from work at 6 pm.
4. I let Big G have Chex Mix for breakfast.

I could keep going, but I have to get out of bed in 4 hours…and I’m not even in bed yet. I’d promise a better post tomorrow, but I don’t want to get your hopes up.

*The WordPress dictionary believes I have Plantar Fascists.
**I don’t even want to discuss what WordPress thinks my dog is named. What’s wrong with these people?