Telemarketing Funny



We have all had to deal with telemarketers.  Irritating to say the least.  Remember the days before the do not call list?  They would always call during dinner.

But there is one guy who applied his comedic abilities when he got a telemarketing call.  If you haven't heard this before, you're in for real treat.  So sit back, have a listen, and prepare to laugh.



Utter Poetry - Can a human head spontaneously explode?

Sometimes, just sometimes, you run across someone on a rant that ends up to be so utterly amazing, it falls into the catagory of poetry.

Case in point.  My Lovely Wife, who happens to be much younger than me.  Because I am a stud muffin.  You can find her original post over at Refusing To Age Gracefully

Take a look around, though the link goes directly to her original post, despite the fact I am copying it here.  She  is a funny woman.  Being with me, she would have to have sense of humor, trust me on this fact.  She will also tell you those pin-up girls aren't her.  While they might not be, she could pull it off.  I just haven't found the right bribe (and that includes large quantities of chocolate) to get her to dress like that.  Won't stop me from trying though.

I won't even bother to go into how I felt about this situation.  Needless to say, it's hard to put seeing red and contemplating explosions and firearms, and torture devices into words.  I will say, that I wasn't totally aware of the entire situation, since not only is my wife much younger, prettier, and funnier than I am, she is also a lot smarter.  She knew I would likely lose control of myself and destroy things.  Like people, small animals, cars, and the invincible Chuck Norris.  Even if I had to Put On A Costume of The Burger King  If you have trouble understanding who Kitty Princess is, because I know you aren't as smart as me, it's our daughter.

So without further comment from the peanut gallery (me), here is a copy of her post.

Can a Human Head Spontaneously Combust?

Okay so there are a few reasons I've been MIA.  One of course is the emotional roller coaster my darling, sweet, precious, oh so blinded by love little girl has had me riding since Christmas Eve.  Since I'm not too sure I can still form coherent thoughts, (lack of good sleep, exhaustion, cleaning for upcoming visit, etc.) I'll just make this easy.

Dec. 23

• Kitty Princess texts me to tell me the bf proposed.
• I inquire about a ring to find there isn't one.
• When will there be one?  Maybe spring.
• What did he get her?
• Nothing.
• Kitty Princess texts me to say "hope you didn't tell anyone, it's not happening"
• I say ummm WTF?
• She says she'll explain when she gets home.
• She gets home and it's "on" again.  Everything is fine.
• Mama Kitty asks very few questions since head is in danger of imminent explosion.
• We all go night night.

Dec. 24

• Christmas Eve!  Yay!
• Kitty Princess wants to know what time bf should come over.
• Kitty Princess is working til 7.
• I tell Kitty Princess not a good idea.  She just saw him and Grumama will be all nervous.
• Kitty Princess agrees and we have a lovely dinner and gift exchange with grandparents.
• Come home and Kitty Princess gets on the phone with bf.
• Boyfriend tells her his best friend's parents are getting him and best friend a job in California at a pharmaceutical company.
• Mama Kitty is happy.
• Then Mama Kitty finds out he wants her to go with him.
• Kitty Princess and bf fight.  A lot.
• Kitty Princess is crying.
• Hysterically.
• Boyfriend is going to break up with her.  Engagement is off.
• Mama Kitty is happy.  Bad Mama Kitty.
• Mama Kitty explains that bf is an ass.  Tells Kitty Princess that even God couldn't get a job at a pharmaceutical company since God doesn't have a four year degree.
• Sometime in the wee hours of the morning (after ruining Christmas Eve) bf decides he still loves her and they don't have to go to California.
• Mama Kitty is not happy again.
• We all go night night.

Dec. 25

• Christmas Day!  Yay!
• Kitty Princess wants to know when she can see boyfriend.
• Fight ensues when she's told that paternal grandparents are coming over and then we have to go to their house for dinner.  No time for bf to come over.
• Kitty Princess pouts.
• Mama Kitty is happy, not about pouting about no bf on Christmas.
• Enjoy Christmas, opening gifts from in-laws, go to dinner to have repeat of sad from niece who is told SHE can't go home with her bf because it's snowing like a bitch and she has to work the next day and boyfriend lives a zillion miles away.
• Decide all females under the age of 25 are systematically insane.
• Come home and Kitty Princess talks to bf rest of night.
• Boyfriend gets mad at her over World of Warcraft and another fight ensues.
• Mama Kitty is tired of the fighting by 1:00 a.m. and leaves the Kitty Princess to go to bed.

Dec. 26

• Kitty Princess works til 9:30
• Kitty Princess gets off work and bf asks where she's been since he KNOWS that her employer closes at 6 p.m. on Sundays.
• Mama Kitty is shellshocked that Kitty Princess didn't go the hell off on bf.
• Apparently bf's best friend worked for two months at GameStop and knows everything there is to know about their practices including holiday hours, amazing since he never worked a holiday hour in his life.
• Mama Kitty isn't asking any more freaking questions cuz her head is going to explode.

Dec. 27

• Kitty Princess has day off.  Spends day on phone with bf playing World of Warcraft.
• Mama Kitty wanted to make cookies and watch movies.
• Other stuff happened that made Mama Kitty not happy.
• Mama Kitty went to bed with monster headache and the very real desire to give the hell up.

Dec. 28

• Blogging is safe.  Mama Kitty shall return to blogging where she can rant and rave and sound like a lunatic about the horrors of bf and having an intelligent, beautiful daughter who is blinded by the thought that love is possible with a good for nothing, worthless, horrible person who doesn't even buy her a gift for Christmas.

And there you have it.  Is it any wonder I can't put more than two words to paper without feeling like my head is going to explode and checking the house to pinpoint the location of every available pointed or sharpened object I own?  Ladies and gentleman, gather round and pray with me that THIS

never, ever, ever, ever, ever happens.  Please and thank you.
***********End of Post***********

And there you have it.  Poetic, if I do say so myself.  Now I'm off to scan for pin-ups to see if she has something to match it, just to try an convince her to put it on.  No doubt, she will tell me she has a headache.  In this case?  Who could blame her?



Something's fishy around here and it's snowing minnows

Funny thing.   All week long leading up to Christmas, there has been speculation that we were going to get a big snow storm here.  Now mostly, meteorologists like to agree on things.  But for whatever the reason, this year they can’t seem to agree on anything.  I suspect it was due to something like a summer meteorologists picnic gone wrong.  Too much wine and beer, leading to pushing, shoving, and name calling.  And it probably rained on them, which in my book, seems appropriate, maybe even poetic.  But that’s all beside the point.

We have one local weatherman who has been uncannily correct over the last year on calling bad weather.  Maybe he is practicing  voodoo or something.   Wouldn’t surprise me one bit.  But he was the source of calling for a big snow, and so many people listen to him locally, everyone was getting riled up.  Then, on Thursday, he said: “Opps, I have to eat crow.  All the weather models changed”.  That was big of him, despite all the crying and moaning going on about not getting a white Christmas.  In fact, one of the local TV stations poked fun at him.  Rude, but there ya go.

Then on Friday, our handy dandy weather man, who seems to never be wrong, came back out and said: “OH MY GOSH! Looks like the weather patterns are changing AGAIN, and we will get a big snow on Christmas day and the day after.  Most of the weather stations stayed quite about this all day, until Friday night, when they began to agree that we might get a couple of inches.  No doubt they had all gathered together at a bar to drink, swap stories, lie, hit on each other, and make a stand on what they would all say.

So Christmas morning came, and by the afternoon, it was snowing here.  Snowing and snowing good.  We went to my parents last night and by the time we came home (about 8:00 PM) it was starting to stick to the roads and looked like there was no sign of it stopping.  So this morning?  Woke up to this, and it’s still snowing.

You will note how messed up the snow on the deck is.  And that I can’t take a picture that is level.  But ignore that part.  The snow is messed up because the cat-lady I happen to be married to let her brood of cats out and they starting trying to tunnel under the snow.  Weird and creepy.

Now if I was this uncannily voodoo involved weatherman, I think I would be crowing, instead of eating crow.  He was right after all.  It looks like we have about 6” of the white stuff and it’s still coming down.  He says we will end up with up to 12” and right now, it looks possible.

Now the fun part begins.  You see, on Christmas Eve, while my daughter was working, my wife and I spent a very little amount of money on a used desk from Goodwill.  I kinda need a decent desk, and the one I am using, she hates.  She would have chopped it up already while I slept, if she knew where the axe was.  Luckily, I’m a smart man, and keep it well hidden.  But the problem is now we have to go get that desk.  Today.  While it’s snowing.  And as I’ve already explained in previous posts, snow in Richmond does not make for safe roads.  We have a big, gas guzzling, Dodge Durango which could drive up Mount Everest, but I have to watch out for all the stupid drivers out there, which are legion.

Once that is done, I have to take my kid to work.  She works at a gaming store (yeah she is a nerd, even if she doesn’t look like one.  Unless you can call looking like a Barbie Doll a nerd).  I swear I think their store does as much business as it does because all the nerd boys come to gawk at her and get sweaty palms.  Which, as a father, creeps me out.

Side note: I just came in from cleaning off the Durango.  Seems we have had temps get just low enough to freeze so I had to scrape all the windows.  Of course NOW it’s well below freezing, 28 Degrees in fact.  Obviously I didn’t’ have on gloves and a coat, because with this face, and this body, adding a coat makes me look like a scary Frosty the Snow Man and I send kids screaming for cover.

I’m about to leave to brave the cold and snowy roads to go get gas, the desk, and stuff to make soup.  I’ll finish this post when I’m back, and the desk is in place.

*************(HOURS AND HOURS LATER) *************

Not only did I get the stuff for soup, got it made, got the desk, got the desk in place, but I also took the geekgirl to work.  It was… Adventure Time, as my daughter likes to say.

If you’ve read my previous post on what happens here in Richmond when it snows, then you know what I’m saying here.  IT WAS RIDICULOUS OUT THERE.  The main roads were clear, just wet from melting snow.  The neighborhood roads are still covered with about an inch at least.  Which would make you think smart people would stay home and off the roads.  Obviously there are no smart people in Richmond.  Before you point that pointy finger at ME, let me remind you I’m not speaking of the people who KNOW HOW TO DRIVE IN THE SNOW.  Like me.

So let’s see.  My neighbor?  Somehow some person, no doubt in a sports car with tires made for sticking to DRY PAVEMENT, ended up in his yard.  How do I know?  Because there are tire tracks through it.  How they got there is a mystery, since we live on a corner and the road is actually exiting our neighborhood and wasn’t covered in snow.

On the way home?  Yeah.  Someone in a Toyota tried to stop at the stop sign, almost sliding out into the road so I could hit him.  Deliberate?  Not sure.  Good driver?  Probably not.  Should he be allowed on the road?  ABSOLUTELY NOT.  Oh well, it’s his insurance that will take the ding, not my personal checking account.

Oh yeah, and when we got geekgirl to work?  People streaming into the game store.  Because, you know, if you’re a geek, you gotta visit the game store EVERY DAY WITHOUT FAIL.  Or you will die.  Or the city will explode.  Or C.E.R.N. (look it up people) will create a black hole and destroy us all.  It’s still odd to see my daughter, who could pass for a real life Barbie, going into a game store.  But alas, she got her geekness from me, and loves her job.

Now the only thing left to do is go and get her when her shift ends.  Since it’s still snowing, and the roads starting getting covered again, I’m really not looking forward to it.

My Night Before Christmas Ya'll



Twas the Night Before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, except the 18 cats the cat-lady had let in the house.

The stocking were hung, (even the cat's) by the chimney with care,

And even the 18 stupid cats hoped to get something in there.

The child was nestled all snug in her bed,

With visions of her jerk boyfriend having asked her to marry him he said.

And Mamma in her unsexy nightgown and me in my cups,

I had just been over the financials and realized we were stuck.

The reasons he had asked her were perfectly clear,

Despite wanting my child, who I severely hold dear.

He was lazy and stupid, with no money, not even a buck,

This guy has proven to me to be nothing but a shmuck.

When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter,

I grabbed my 9mm and went to see what was the matter.

Away to the door I ran like the Flash,

And opened the door, secretly praying for cash.

The moon on the breast of my wife’s heaving chest,

Gave my eyes the luster of what I was thinking of next.

When what to my wondering eye should appear?

But a miniature sleigh, and 8 tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it was that fat, lying, dirty old St. Nick.

More rapid than the 18 stupid hungry cats, his courses they came,

And he whistled and shouted and called them by name.

Now Dancer!, now Dasher!, now Prancer! and Vixen!

On Comet!, on Cupid!, on Donner! And Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!

Now Dash away!, Dash away! Dash away all!

As dry leaves (like our money) that before the wild hurricane fly,

As they met with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up to the house top, the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of even more bills and that fat old St. Nick too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,

The crashing and splintering from each fat reindeer hoof.

As I holstered my 9, and was turning around,

Down the chimney that drunken fatty came down.

His eyes, how they were blood-shot, his dimples how merry,

His cheeks were like roses, his nose as red as a cherry,

His droll little mouth was drawn up in a sneer,

And his beard was covered in foam, from a frosty beer.

The stump of a crack pipe he held tight in his yellow teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his almost bald head like a sick wreath.

He had a broad face and a fat round belly,

That shook when he chortled, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and half naked, a right slimy old elf,

And I cringed when I saw him, scarred for life in spite of myself.

A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,

I soon knew this was a reckoning, and had everything to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And found all my hidden cash, slapped the wife on her butt, then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside his fat red nose,

Slammed down some collection bills, then up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew, like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,

“Hey it may be Christmas, and I took all your cash, but have a good night!”

With anger and quickness, I dashed outside,

I pulled my 9, and pushed my wife to the side.

I was determined to put a stop to all of this madness,

Since him taking my cash had filled me with sadness.

As I sighted and took aim, and prepared to fire,

I finally realized this wasn’t the Christmas Sire.

The look was off, just a disguise I was sure,

It had to be the bank, with no intentions to be pure.

I swallowed heavily, knowing I’d missed my chance,

And I just knew that my checking account had a zero balance.

With no gifts for the wife, or even my child,

I don’ t mind telling you I was quite riled.

I stomped into the house, ready to fight,

Only to discover that my wife had gone to bed for the night.

I picked up the bottle, and gave it a pull,

Then grabbed the hammer and gave a few whacks to my skull.

I was tired, and stressed, with no Christmas this year,

Because no way would we get any help around here.

Our entire situation, made me want to scream or yelp,

If only our mortgage company would agree to help.

But all banks and collectors are filled with greed,

Driving their fancy cars down the road like some prized steed.

They didn’t care who lives they got to ruin,

Despite all the law suites, despite all the suing.

I sat down in my chair, felling lost and lonely,

I even picked up cuddled my child’s old little stuffed pony.

I wanted to sit there, grumble and curse, full of spite,

Then with awe, something came to my sight.

It was our tree, filled with lights and ornaments galore,

And it made me slide, down, all the way to the floor.

It reminded me of quite simply of the entire reason,

What Christmas was for, what was the cause for this season.

A Christ child was born and as a perfect gift was given,

It made my mind change direction, with a new direction I was driven.

So I closed my eyes, and down my cheek slid a tear,

As I prayed for those who burdens were more than they could bear.

So despite all my anger, my frustrations and fear,

I went to bed with a light heart, my mind again clear.

I stopped to look at my wife as she slept,

And just knew in my heart His promises would be kept.

Next year would be different, of this I was certain,

As I looked at the moon, through our home maid curtain.

 I laid down my aching head, to rest my tired mind,

And new all would be well, it would just take a little time.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

How to tell a loved one they are crazy – too crazy – about cats

BE RESPONSIBLE - SPAY AND NEUTER YOUR PETS



I know I have blogged about cats a lot.  I can’t seem to help it, because not only are they funny but my wife collects them like a nerd collects Pokemon cards.  And belly button lint.  Despite the fact, here is yet another post that is going to feature….. (wait for it)…. Cats.  And my wife.

I’ve already explained in previous posts how my wife seems to have an unusual ability to attract cats from all over the place.  She says it’s just from the neighborhood, but I swear I saw one of those feline beasties with a Passport stamp from Kazakhstan.

The trouble with this, as you might well imagine, is that wild cats do one thing.  No, make that two.  They eat you out of house and home, and they will somehow all be female so that our irresponsible neighbors who won’t neuter their male cats can get them all pregnant.  I’ve tried to find Kitty Contraceptives, but alas, no joy.  Kittens are cute and all, but the rascals grow up and eat.  A lot.  Not to mention most of them seem to be female, thus multiplying the problem.

Needless to say, I have dreams of being eaten by a swarm of hungry felines and trust me, it’s a lot of food for them and a slow death for me.

I’ve attempted to explain to my wife that our house is quickly becoming over run, becoming to small, that we can’t keep feeding all these cats but I don’t think she is listening to me.  When I go on and on about it, she will attempt to justify her actions with these timeless classics.

It’s to cold for them outside

But they are hungry.

They are so cute.

I don’t want them to die.

But tonight, she was on the phone with someone local who arranges to have strays spayed and neutered, making me THINK she is trying to get a handle on the sudden feline population explosion going on at our address, and when she got off the phone she had a new justification.

She explained to me that this woman moved out of her condo and rented to some young girls.  She too had a cat population issue and despite not being able to really afford to feed all the cats, she still takes cat food to the girls once a week to feed the cats.  She then said, “see, I’m not crazy after all”.

This is when you have to bear down, be a man, and tell it like it is.  Sometimes you just have to tell the person you love that they are crazy.  So how do you do it?  You might try doing it like I did, with kindness, consideration and compassion.  I told her: “No, it just means you aren’t alone.”

Once she finished laughing, she picked up a butcher knife and gave me the death glare.  Being a man, I made a stand, from across the room and with furniture between us.

Seriously though, please spay and neuter your pets.  I wouldn’t have this problem if my neighbors took care of this themselves.  I would love to pay to have all these cats spayed or neutered, but I’m rather poor.  But still, we are trying to be responsible and have it taken care of.  If you have pets and can’t afford to have it done, there are organizations in your area that will do it for free.  Contact them please.  No pet deserves to be homeless and hungry.

Showing some love at Christmas Time with 12 Special Days

During Christmas, it’s typical for those in love to try and give a gift that shows the other the depth of their love.  That’s because nothing shows love like material possessions, especially for women.  Gold jewelry, chocolates, diamonds, heck even cars as gifts and you won’t go wrong.  Gold digger much?  Anywho, let’s not debate the differences between men and women at this time.  The post would be VERY long and I don’t have any alcohol.

Instead, I wanted to just touch on a song, a famous holiday song that addresses giving gifts to your one true love.  That song would be The Twelve Days of Christmas.

I don’t know who wrote the song, and I’m far too lazy to look it up, so when I list the lyrics here just know they aren’t mine, etc. etc.  To my knowledge, I don’t need permission to post them.

Let’s look at the lyrics of this lovely holiday classic.  

On the first day of Christmas
My true love gave to me:
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the second day of Christmas
My true love gave to me:
Two turtle doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the third day of Christmas
My true love gave to me:
Three french hens
Two turtle doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the forth day of Christmas
My true love gave to me:
Four calling birds
Three french hens
Two turtle doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the fifth day of Christmas
My true love gave to me:
Five golden rings
Four calling birds
Three french hens
Two turtle doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the sixth day of Christmas,
My true love gave to me:
Six geese a-laying
Five golden rings
Four calling birds
Three french hens
Two turtle doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the seventh day of Christmas,
My true love gave to me:
Seven swans a-swimming
Six geese a-laying
Five golden rings
Four calling birds
Three french hens
Two turtle doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the eight day of Christmas,
My true love gave to me:
Eight maids a-milking
Seven swans a-swimming
Six geese a-laying
Five golden rings
Four calling birds
Three french hens
Two turtle doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the ninth day of Christmas,
My true love gave to me:
Nine ladies dancing
Eight maids a-milking
Seven swans a-swimming
Six geese a-laying
Five golden rings
Four calling birds
Three french hens
Two turtle doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the tenth day of Christmas,
My true love gave to me:
Ten lords a-leaping
Nine ladies dancing
Eight maids a-milking
Seven swans a-swimming
Six geese a-laying
Five golden rings
Four calling birds
Three french hens
Two turtle doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the eleventh day of Christmas,
My true love gave to me:
Eleven pipers piping
Ten lords a-leaping
Nine ladies dancing
Eight maids a-milking
Seven swans a-swimming
Six geese a-laying
Five golden rings
Four calling birds
Three french hens
Two turtle doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the Twelfth day of Christmas,
My true love gave to me:
Twelve drummers drumming
Eleven pipers piping
Ten lords a-leaping
Nine ladies dancing
Eight maids a-milking
Seven swans a-swimming
Six geese a-laying
Five golden rings
Four calling birds
Three french hens
Two turtle doves
and a partridge in a pear tree.

Now, when reading this, I hope you paid attention.  Being married for 21 years, I know a little something something about expressing love and I can tell you, this ain’t got nothing to do with it.

Let’s review shall we?  After these 12 days, you’re going to be left with the following:

12 Pear trees and 12 Partridges

22 Turtle Doves

30 French Hens

36 Calling Birds

96 Golden Rings

84 Geese Laying Eggs

72 Swimming Swans

60 Milking Maids

48 Dancing Ladies

36 Leading Lords

22 Pipers Piping

12 Drummers Drumming

I hope I got the math right.  Now how, pray tell, does this show love?  First of all, every day for 12 days, you get a tree.  That you have to plant.  And the 12 Partridges in it?  Well, if they don’t fly away (which would make you sad by the way) you have to feed them.

Then you have 22 Turtle Doves?  Again, who is going to feed them, provided that those Doves don’t fly off for someplace warmer, being that it’s December and all.  They might end up being Frozen Dovecicles.  Oh yeah, that’s a lovely image isn’t it?

Then there is 30 French Hens.  Again, something you have to feed.  Being Hens, they probably won’t fly away, put they are sure to wander around.  Annoy the neighbors.  Get shot and eaten.

Next? 36 Calling Birds. I don’t know about you, but in the summer we have a bird that loves to nest in the tree right outside our window.  He thinks it’s a amusing to start singing at four o’clock IN THE MORNING.  How would you like to be woken up every morning at four o’clock by 36 calling birds huh?  I don’t think so!  Plus you would have to feed them and I just know you would be PRAYING for them to fly away.  Being Calling Birds, they won’t. Oh no, because they will need to sing to you at FOUR O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING.  Can anyone say shotgun?

96 Golden Rings.  Nice sentiment.  But unfortunately, you will have to pawn them to feed all the stupid birds and hens and what is to come.  So by the end of the twelve days, you won’t have ANY of these nice golden rings.

84 Geese.  Laying Eggs.  Count them people, 86!  Now the eggs might come in handy for breakfast, but again, it’s something you’re going to have to feed.  Plus, have you ever had an encounter with a Goose?  They are mean, vicious, evil creatures.  They bite.  They crap all over the place.  Yeah, nice gift.

72 Swimming Swans.  Swimming where? Do you have a pond?  If you do, it better be a big one, to house 72 Swimming Swans.  Of course, being winter, they will get frozen in the ice, and you will have to go rescue them after dark.  I don’t know about you, but that would put me in a bad mood.  Plus again, you would have to feed them.

WHAT IS THE FASCINATION WITH BIRDS?

60 Milking Maids.  What, exactly, are they milking?  Do you have cows?  Probably not.  So what are they doing?  Do you have to feed them too?  Give them lemonade?  Hot Chocolate?  Let them use your bathroom?

48 Dancing Ladies.  If you’re a guy, this might not be so bad.  Put out some poles, and let them go.  But otherwise, why?  Why dancing ladies?  What are they dancing too?  AC/DC?  Whatever it is they are dancing to music wise, it’s sure to bring the police to your door with a noise complaint.  And do you have to feed them too?  Do the lemonade or hot chocolate bit?  Let them in your house?  Where are these people sleeping?  Are they stealing your remote to watch stupid stuff on your T.V.?

36 Leaping Lords.  They are Aristocrats, being Lords and why the heck are they leaping?  Are they on crack?  I bet they are.  Being Lords, no doubt they will break into your liquor cabinet and drink all your whiskey.  Lay around when they are resting and fart, stinking up your house.  Not to mention they will be looking down their nose at you, because they are Lords, and you aren’t.  You’re just a common person.

22 Pipers Piping.  Oh the noise. Oh the headaches.  Oh the complaints.  Do you really think you’re neighbors are going to put up with all that trilling?  I don’t think so.  What will they be piping?  No doubt, the theme to the twelve days of Christmas, which by now if you’re smart, you will hate.

12 Drummers Drumming.  Again with the noise, they headaches, and the complaints.  By this time you will have spent a fortune paying fines to the county or city you live in for all the noise laws you have broken.  And all that bass?  Going right to your head, which is hurting due to the constant headache you have since this whole twelve days of pure hell started.

By now, you’re broke, having sold all your gold rings and emptied your bank account to pay your bail and your fines, your house is in ruins due to all these crazy people running in and out to use your bathroom, your neighbors are ready you run you out of town with pitchforks, and you’re ready to commit suicide.  Or murder.  Or both.

This song isn’t about love, it’s about destroying someone’s sanity.  And bankrupting them.  So how, exactly did it become a Christmas Song?

If someone loves you, they will skip all this lunacy, and buy you a new house.  Or an expensive car.  Twelve Days of Christmas?  More like the Twelve Days of Lunacy.

So what are you giving you’re true love for Christmas?

Dirty Dishes and The Ministry of Funny Dishwasher Preparation

We all have them.  We all have to clean them.  Dishes.  You know, the things you put food on to eat off of and drink in to drink out of?  Well, once you’re done, they are “dirty” and need to be cleaned.  I’m saying this only because I know not everyone catches on as fast as me.

Here in the Riley household, we go through a lot of dishes.  This wasn’t always the case.  We once made enough money to go out and eat somewhere else, leaving dirty dishes for someone else to worry about.  But times change, and now we eat at home (unless you are buying).  There is nothing wrong with this, and if fact, seems almost normal.  But once we get to the dirty dishes part, things take an ugly turn.

We have a dishwasher (and no I don’t mean my wife).  It’s a very good dishwasher, one we purchased years ago when we could afford things like appliances.  As a result, when we have dirty dishes, we load up the dishwasher and let it cheerfully spray water and soap and spin and whirl and make noise and as a finale, turn on some heat to dry what is inside.

The problem is, there is a startlingly huge difference between how I prepare dirty dishes and how my wife and daughter prepare dirty dishes.  I’m talking huge like the pacific ocean, or my vast intellect and witty charm.

I am a firm believer that the advertisements made by dishwasher manufacturers are propaganda designed to lure you into buying their model.  Claims like no prior rinsing, spotless finish, etc. etc..  I am not one to fall for such obvious ploys.  My wife and daughter?  Naive.  Hook, line, and sinker folks.  When I feel a wild hair and decide to load up the dishwasher (or because I can’t find any clean spoons), I go into the kitchen only to discover what should be dishes that need to be cleaned, but in fact are dishes that have globs of dried food pasted on like cement.  My daughter’s specialty is leaving milk in a glass.  Do you know how hard it is to clean out dried milk from a glass?  Acid couldn’t take that crap off.

You see, while I believe that you take your dirty dishes into the kitchen, rinse them off so they can be properly sprayed and soaped by the dishwasher, my two girls believe that you leave extra food on the plates, grind it in with your foot, microwave the particles to cement them in place, and as a finale, take sandpaper to the dish in question.  Of course, this means when you unload the supposedly clean dishes, they are anything but clean.

I’ve complained.  I’ve explained, I’ve restrained (from throwing tantrums like a two year old).  Nothing seems to get through to the girls so I pulled out the yellow pages and looked for some help.  I came upon The Ministry of Funny Dishwasher Preparation (yes, a shameless parody of Monty Python’s Ministry of Silly Walks) and decided to give them a call.  The conversation went a little something like this:

Ministry:              “Hello, Ministry of Silly Dishwasher Preparation, how can we help you today?”

Me:                        “Yes, hello!  I’m calling because I need help with a dishwasher problem.”

Ministry:              “of course, and does your problem involve dishwasher preparation?”

Me:                        “Err, yes it does.”

Ministry:              “Very well, and your problem is dishwasher preparation?”

Me:                        “Umm, yes, I just said it was.”

Ministry:              “Don’t be snide Sir!  We are here to help you!  What is the nature of your problem?

Me:                        “Well, my wife and daughter don’t properly prepare the dishes to go into the dishwasher and I can’t get them to understand this.”

Ministry:              “A common problem.  Did you try explaining to them that dishes must be properly prepared before going into the dishwasher?”

Me:                        “I have, on numerous occasions.”

Ministry:              “Well, let’s try this, what do you think proper dishwasher preparation is?”

Me:                        “Well, you need to rinse all the food and stuff off your dishes first, or the dishwasher won’t get them clean.”

Ministry:              “Utter nonsense.  Dishwashers are designed to get your dishes clean.  Do you even know how to use a dishwasher?”

Me:                        “Of course I do!  But sometimes, the dishes don’t come out clean!”

Ministry:              “Do you use dishwashing detergent?”

Me:                        *sighs* “Yes I do.”

Ministry:              “Oh, well then you need to rinse the food and stuff off your dishes first.”

Me:                        “I just said that.”

Ministry:              “No you didn’t.  I’m the expert here and I would remember if you did.”

Me:                        “Well, you’re mistaken, I did,”

Ministry:              “Well we are going round and round here sir, and this will get you no where with your problem.”

Me:                        “Fine.  What do you suggest?”

Ministry:              “Oh! That’s easy!  Simply explain the situation to them. Show them how the dishes don’t come clean.”

Me:                        “I’ve done that.”

Ministry:              “Are you sure?  Because if you did, I’m sure they would properly prepare the dishes for the dishwasher.”

Me:                        “Yes, yes, I’m quite sure.”

Ministry:              “I see, well have you done something to piss them off?”

Me:                        “No, and what does that have to do with anything?”

Ministry:              “If you pissed them off, then they are doing it get back at you.”

Me:                        “That doesn’t make sense, they are only making matters worse for themselves.”

Ministry:              “You might have a point.  Tell me sir, when was the last time you bought your wife flowers?”

Me:                        “Flowers?

Ministry:              “Yes, often, when you give your wife flowers, she will do nice things for you.”

Me:                        “Are you on drugs?”

Ministry:              “Of course not!  I only do drugs on the weekends.”

Me:                        *Click”

As you can tell, that got me absolutely nothing.  Much like explaining to my girls about proper dishwashing preparation.  I guess I’m doomed to rewash dishes, huh?

And Now For Something Completely Different

BABIES!

OM NOM NOM!



The Richmond Snow Problem

Well, the weatherman went and did it.  It started a few days ago with vague comments, and by today, it was full on.

Snow.

There should be a special prison for weathermen (and weatherwomen).

Once again, they are calling for Snow here in Richmond, Virginia.  I don’t know about you and where you live, but here?  Snow = Disaster.  And by disaster, I mean like the banking industry. I happen to like snow and my philosophy has always been the more snow the better.  I like building anatomically correct snowmen and snowwomen.  But there seems to be this issue with people who live in and around Richmond.  Personally, I think it’s caused by Wal-Mart, sending out subliminal messages in their commercials.  Or maybe that’s Hallmark.  Anyway, there are a number of issues that come to mind.

Everyone loses their mind like a Bad Trip at a Pink Floyd Light Show

When even a hint of a chance of snow is announced, people start talking about it.  And talking about it.  And they don’t talk about anything else.  You could be like “Hey, did you hear the President just passed a bill that will make it legal for you to not pay taxes if you make less than a million dollars?” And the response would be, “Forget about that! Did you hear it’s going to snow?!”  It’s as bad as all the teen girls in a high school had just learned Justin Bieber is going to visit and take them all out on a date.

All the Milk and Bread Mysteriously Disappears

Seriously.  No joke here.  Even Houdini would be impressed.  If they even mention flurries, everyone flocks to their local market or quick stop and buys up all the milk and bread they can get their hands on.  Why?  Because they are afraid they will get snowed in for a week.  With nothing to eat.  Why someone would want to survive on nothing but milk and bread during a snow in is puzzling to say the least.  Me?  Give me soup, hot chocolate, spaghetti, chili, cornbread, baked potatoes, you know, real food.  Of course you have to have milk and bread, but come on people!

No Matter How Much Snow, Everyone Thinks it’s a Good Idea To Drive

Despite being convinced they will be snowed in, the first thing everyone does when it’s snowing is climb in their car to drive around.  No matter if it’s an inch, or twenty, they will be on the roads.  In their sports cars that can’t handle it.  When they get stuck, and they always do, others, driving similar cars, stop and try to help them out.  Of course, then means they end up getting stuck too.  Then you have the ones who own SUV’s.  There ought to be a law that anyone who owns an SUV must pass a special driving class proving they can drive the thing in all situations, because let me tell you, these people might as well have strapped skies to their tires and decided to try and drive their vehicle down an Olympic ski jump.

School, or no School

The school situation is always dicey, because school administrators all smoke crack.  But I remember when I was kid, there had to be at least 4 inches of snow on the roads before they closed schools.  Even then, you were lucky if you got out 2 hours early.  They didn’t smoke crack back then because no one had thought of it, instead they smoked pot.  Which is probably why it took them so long to make a decision, because you know, they were in the teachers lounge eating cheetos.  Now days, they either wait for the kids to get to school, then close it, or they close the schools BEFORE IT EVEN SNOWS.  That’s right.  Even on this night, before there is even one single flake falling, one area south of Richmond has closed their schools.

All in all, it’s rather frustrating.  So although I love snow, I’m already irritated.  Tonight, I had to pick my daughter up from work.  She works at a place that has a Wal-Mart in the same shopping area and I swear it took me 15 minutes to get across to the other side of the parking lot and that was only because I refused to stop for the mass of people running inside to buy milk and bread.  The time? It was 9:30 PM.

The last I heard, they were calling for anywhere between 2 and 7 inches here.  No doubt, when I wake up in the morning, there will be 3 cars stuck in my ditch, and my daughter might just have to go in to school, just to turn around and leave again when they close it.

There you have it my friends.  This is what it’s like here in Richmond, Virginia when they are calling for a little snow.  But despite all this, I’ll sit back and enjoy the scenery, as long as I don’t run out of milk and bread.  In fact, I better go to the store.  I only have a gallon of milk and two loaves of bread.

Maybe if I get snowed in, I’ll wake up to find Santa came early and left me a little present: