At noon today I lost my sight and am now as blind as a bat. (Except. …I do not have echo locational abilities) When I decided to replace the lenses in my glasses instead of getting a whole new pair (I really like my current frames) I was under the impression that it would be a few hours at most before I got my glasses back.
FAIL!
Becuase I am soooooo blind. (I have a very very strong prescription - add my dads and my almost seventy year old father in laws prescriptions and I still beat them) the optical department has to special order my lesnses - oh wait. They aren’t kept in stock there either! Yay! they have to make my lenses from scratch. I will be without my glasses for two whole weeks. And thats AFTER dude put a rush on them.
In retrospect. It would have made a hell of a lot more sense to have just bought a whole new pair, at least that way I would be able to see!
(I have a pair of contacts in. The optical dude gave them to me for free out of pity when he realize I could not fucking walk by myself. Or you know. Figure out which child is mine - the contacts came after he helped me explain about my vision to the very upset parent of the child I basically kidnapped)(In short. I have had the contacts in for ten hours with a three hour break (for a nap) in between and my eyes are on fucking fire!)(suggestions on how I am to last two fucking weeks = life long devotion)(or a cookie)
“Mom. How come when Smokey has her collar on, her hair poofs up?”
” ‘Cus her mane is growing in. We told you all about that.”
“Her mane?”
“Yea. Just like a lion… And when it is fully grown in, she will be all lion. Then she will eat deers, antelopes, people, that kind of thing”
“….. . . .really??!”
“Yes. We told you all of this. wait. Let me show you a picture”
“See. This dog’s mane is fully grown so she is all lion now.”
“But. She isn’t big enough to be a lion.”
“Well no, they don’t turn into lions. They just think they are lions and start acting like them. The dog in the picture didn’t turn yellow did it?”
” No. But…. will she really eat us?”
“Not if she can’t catch you. In the summer time we will start to train -”
“We’re gonna train her to not to eat us?”
“No, we’re going to start training you guys to run faster. If she can’t catch you sooner or later she will give up. Besides, her mane has just started to grow in, so you have lots of time to train. I wouldn’t worry too much over it.”
Kids are SO trusting.
A few days ago I commented on a blog. Not a shocking activity for a blogger, is it? The neat part about my comment was that it cemented my involvement in the Pay it Forward Movement. I’ve seen Pay It Forward posts around the net for a while now, and thought it was a great idea.
What happens is you write a post, much like I am doing, but with different words - and maybe some pictures. Everyone who does not have dial up loves pictures! During your post you mention Pay It forward and specify which comments will be involved.
In my case, I have chosen comments number 3, 5 and 8. Do they seem random? they aren’t. Random would be choosing negative sixteen, eighty four and nine billion and one. If you are commenter number 3, 5 or 8 I will request your snail mail address and send you something, BUT you have to do the same on your blog.
Thus, if you decide to leave a comment, and you happen to be 3, 5, or 8 and do not want to play, please make a note of it in your comment!
~***~
In other news, Hubs is picking up his PSP tonight after work, so I will be bored and on the interwebs waiting for you to entertain me. There had better be cotton candy and balloon animals!
As great as I think it would be for me to sit here and tell you that becuase I refused to let my five year old use his daddy’s Drill (’cus he isn’t using it right now, and daddy is a good share-er!) (But I NEED to make holes in the walls so I can be a really good spy!!!) my son began cutting photos of food from a magazine, packed exactly one mitten and a hat (and the previously mentioned food. Duh) and told me he was running away.
Yep. That, and the video I took if him trying to open the door with both hands in one mitt screaming about me being the meanest mommy ever, would have made a damn good post. However.
However. One of you decided to nominate me for an award. Normally I love getting awards. Like the one Tug just gave me. She says I cheer her up. That’s sweet. Thats an award I appreciate. But this one? Not so much.
And before anyone says “But Blue! These are the Really Fucking Stupid awards, they are supposed to be stupid!”….
Wait. Lemme back up just a bit. When I logged into my email and saw the comment from Christie I was SO excited. Ive watched bloggers I know (and don’t know) be nominated for the RFS awards for as long as I have been blogging - which isn’t really that long - and I have coveted a nomination for myself.
But? Blogger most likely to jump off a bridge if someone told them to? Uhm. No. actually I wouldn’t. I will, in fact, do things people tell me to do, after I question the whys and wherehows of it. Despite what the nominator thinks of me, I am not an idiot. I have a brain, and while I may not blog my brain, I do use it. A lot.
So in conclusion. Go not vote for me.
Swank Webstyle
Pee ess: Anyone who feels I would win the “Blogger who is most likely to sever a toe while drinking coffee on the run from rabid spiders” Pls put your vote in MY comment section!
Pee Ess Ess: Next year, dear anonymous nominator, Pls to be nominating me for “blogger most likely to OD on chocolate covered coffee beans”
In a roundabout way, George was glad that he lost his keys. This was mostly because he knew his wife wanted to go to the local restaurant to ask if they had found her dentures yet.
It wasn’t the fact that they had already been there twice that day looking for her false teeth, and couldn’t go back again now that made him glad. No, what really made him glad was that she had no teeth at all… and why that should make him glad is a story for another day.
But today’s gladness came because his old Army buddy was coming for a visit. He couldn’t wait to sit back with a cold beer and reminisce about old times. Like the time they hitchhiked all the way from Memphis to New Orleans, and along the way they met that woman with the snake.
She told them that one time she had learned to skillfully slither down a poll from watching her hairless friend, and as a result earned a lucrative career as a dancer.
They were curious about her tale and were planning to make a TV movie about it, either on Showtime or on WE. They offered her a substantial deal and promised her fame and fortune. She hoped she could be as famous as Paris Hilton someday and have her own sex tape.
That was until One of them looked a little closer at her and realized that “she” had an adam’s apple. His army buddy hiked up the “woman’s” skirt and sure enough–penis!
“Damn it,” he exclaimed. “Do you know how turned on that I am? I never knew that I was bisexual until I saw your penis under that skirt! Do you think that I could look as good in a skirt as you do?”
“Why, sure!” said the shemale. And off they went to find a place to consummate their newfound attraction, leaving George behind.
Now, George wondered if his excitement at seeing his friend had something to do with that incident. Or was he just really horny? After all, it had been quite awhile since Marge had given him a gummer. Perhaps there would be more to this evening than a cold beer and good conversation.
When George saw his friend Bob walk into the room, he immediately knew what kind of night he was in for, because Bob was pushed through the door by Marge who spryly leaped over him, grabbed George’s pet ferret, Bambi, and screamed:
“Give me your dentures or Bambi gets it!”
Thinking quickly, Bob’s uncle Melvin (who’s had had a thing for George since 1953) grabbed Marge and making her drop Bambi in the process. He pinned her arms to her sides. Bob ripped Marge’s dress off in one solid motion. Both Bob and George looked Marge up and down from head to toe. Bob and George threw their arms around each other and walked out of the room leaving Marge speechless on the floor. “Well, What the fuck??” She sputtered. “This hasn’t happened to me since the the time Mildred, Fred and Gus were here and we drank 3 bottles of Vodka.
Marge still needed her dentures, and now she had to find that fucking ferret before the boys found a glass pipe a lighter and the little furry fucker themselves!
Thinking fast, Marge got up, went to the cupboard and grabbed a tin of Spam. Ferrets like spam, don’t they? She set the opened can on the floor and waited. Sure enough, the beady eyed freak scurried out from under the sofa where he had been hiding and made a beeline for the spam.
With a shriek of glee, Marge grabbed the rodent and tossed him into the oven. Don’t worry PETA. the oven was off.
Now if only she could find those damn dentures!
Deciding to enlist the guys in her search she wandered from the room. Becuase she could hear strange sounds coming from the back of the house, thats where she was headed. To her utter dismay, there was Bob, the missing dentures - lubed and precariously lodged in his ass - and George.
Marge sighed. If she wanted her dentures back, she was gonna need a cup.
Many, many thanks to
Angry, Blogarita, Diane Mandy, Robin, Mr.Fabulous, Shelli, Y not I, Miss Ann Thorpe, Anne, Metal Mom and Nobody. Without your sick and twisted minds, I would have had to come up with a post today all by myself.
