She walks, she talks, she crawls on her belly like a reptile. She's almost human. It's.....THE OPTO-MOM!!!



Friday, August 26, 2011

Read This Or You Will Be Eaten By Wolves

I got one of those chain e-mails the other day. Not unusual, but since I'm kinda OCD, this one annoyed the donkey piss out of me. I’ll show it to you, and then dissect it with my customary fervor and ruthlessness:

What the HELL? What am I, like 12 years old? And this was sent to me by an alleged adult!

It starts out by saying, “Don’t read this.” Ummmm, ok. Then why in the name of Cooter Brown did you send it to me? Then it goes on to say that now I’ve started reading this ingenious piece of prose, I should NOT stop.

Then it warns about the freakiness of this e-mail phenomenon with random spelling (“tommorow?” Really?) and horrific punctuation.

On to the “tasks” that it gives me: I have to repeat my name, my mom’s name, and my crush’s (the PROPER way to spell/punctuate it) name a number of times. Yeah, because my computer knows whether or not I’m really doing this.

And why am I saying my mother’s name while trying to get someone to kiss me? That’s a little kinky, dude. Not how I roll.

Then I have to paste it to 4 groups, or maybe 5 groups (contradictory much?). And I MUST do this within 143 minutes (random much?). Then press F6, which all computer geniuses know is the key for making your thoughts magically appear on your screen.

If you do all of this you will apparently have an awesome day tomorrow and some gorgeous person is gonna come kiss you on Friday.

Well, let me tell you…I had diarrhea the day after I did this and Matthew McConaughey did NOT show up to my house and kiss me last Friday.  Which is probably good, since I had the diarrhea and all.  I also have not heard of Justin Bieber running around kissing random pre-teens for no apparent reason on Fridays.

In conclusion, this does not work, so stop yelling out people’s names and re-posting e-mails and fervently smashing the F6 button. Nobody’s coming to kiss you because you send dumbass messages like this. You suck.

Deal with it!

And if you have bad luck one day, chalk it up to “THAT’S LIFE!” and not because you only said your mom’s name 4 times or because you didn’t push F6 with enough passionate fury.

Oh, and if anyone runs into the delicious Mr. McConaughey, please ask him if he had the overwhelming urge to kiss some strange lady in Texas last Friday. Just curious!

My daughter got caught up in this ignorance a couple of weeks ago. She runs in the room, waving her cell phone at me.

"Mom, I just got this text message," she says breathlessly. "If I don't send it to at least 35 people, something REALLY BAD will happen!!!"

She was slightly frantic at this point, in that dramatic way that only a pre-teen girl can achieve. She was worried because she has a pre-paid phone, and she didn't have enough texts left for the month to send the required 35, as directed by the nimrod who sent it to her.

"It says that a girl in Arizona got this message and didn't forward it, and the next day she was eaten by wolves! And a boy in Michigan ignored it, and both his parents died when their house was hit by a hurricane!"

A hurricane. In fucking Michigan.

So, I had to sit her down and have a little talk. "Honey, in this world there are people we call 'fucktards...'"






Friday, August 19, 2011

The Eternal Klutz Rides Again!

Don’t yell at me! I know I’ve been absent for a while.


I’ve been busy doing lots of important things: designing a new space shuttle for NASA, curing lupus, doing a little foreign diplomacy work. You know…things like that.


Ok, that’s total bullshit. I did take Miss Smarty Britches (MSB) to basketball camp, though. Of course, to a 9-year-old, that’s more important than that lupus and diplomacy shit.


Onward to the klutzy part. On the 4 ½ hour drive (could have been 4 hours if I didn’t drink so much Dr. Pepper and have to pee every 30 minutes), I ran into some construction.


Of course. This is Texas, and there is ALWAYS construction somewhere.
 
Anyhoo, while we were just sitting there, I had the car window open a little bit.


About this time, an 18-wheeler sped by and threw a rock through the miniscule 5 inch crack in my window.


The damn rock bounced off my temple like one of those bouncy balls in a concrete room.


Here is an artistic rendering of the situation:
Trying not to cuss because my kid was in the car.
As I was checking for blood and brains oozing out of my cranium, I noticed that MSB was oblivious to the whole thing, just rocking out to her MP3 player in the back seat.  I'm sure she just would have laughed at me anyway.
 
We managed to make it to College Station without any further head wounds or loss of brain matter.


And no speeding tickets. Yay, me!


When we arrived at our hotel, we found out that there was a bingo convention in town, and all of the attendees seemed to be staying at our hotel.


There were about eleventy thousand grumpy, senior citizen, bingo fanatics clomping around the hotel. They ate all of the waffles at the continental breakfast, and generally wreaked all manner of skin-hanging havoc at the swimming pool. And one of them farted in the elevator every time we got in.


Now, let’s get back to me, me, klutzy me! We were getting ready to go register for the camp, so I hopped in the shower in the hotel room.


The hair washing was uneventful, but as I bent down to pick up my conditioner, I slipped and fell ALL THE WAY OUT OF THE TUB!


I swear, it was like I was in the Matrix (except with more grunting noises and less coolness).


I fell ass-backwards, hitting my foot on the faucet and then bouncing off the toilet with my ribs, squirting conditioner everywhere, eventually landing flat on my back on the tile floor.


Body proportions determined by the artist may or may not be accurate.


Ummmm, fucking ouch!

I somehow got my naked ass up without slipping on the conditioner and sat in the tub to finish my hair.


I don’t know about you, but our bathtub at home has some texturing on the bottom of it. (Mildew is a texture, right?) But the bottom of the hotel tub was slicker than owl shit.  I'm writing to my Senator about making a new law.


I’m not sure how it happened that I took my daughter to an intense sports camp, and I was the one that came back with a knot on my head, bruised ribs, a scraped foot, and my spine practically broken in half.


Admit it, I really am extraordinarily talented.
 
A little about the basketball camp. It was at Texas A&M University. The women’s basketball team won the NCAA National Championship title this year, and they were the camp counselors.
 
So this was a great opportunity for MSB, who is a novice at basketball, never having played on an organized team or anything.


But she was on the team that won the 3-on-3 championship for the camp, out of hundreds of girls!  Yay, MSB!!!


So maybe she’s the talented one in the family, and I’m just the clumsy one.


Now I'll bore you with a few pictures because it is Miss Smarty Britches's 10th birthday today!!!
With A&M Head Coach Gary Blair
Doing the Dougie with Coach Blair
They totally dance like white people.
With her favorite player, Maryann Baker
One tired girl on the way home.

By the way, MSB is over 5 foot, 4 inches tall and is currently wearing a size 11 in ladies' shoes.  I think she's built to be a basketball champion.  I hope so, because I fully expect her to reimburse me for the cost of all these expensive-ass shoes. 

Happy 10th birthday, sweetie!!!