DYING laughing at this video…
You just gotta watch for yourself.
DYING laughing at this video…
You just gotta watch for yourself.
The newspaper in my small town is pretty ridiculous. Rarely is their front page story anything that is even remotely newsworthy. Yesterday was no exception, but I did get a good laugh out of it.
Yesterday’s big story:
John W______ and sons Austin, 10, and Alex, 12, built a huge snowman Monday afternoon in their front yard at the corner of D____ and H___ streets. During the night, however, vandals knocked it down. Mom Leigh W______ said instead of getting angry, the three turned the remains into a crime scene, complete with a law enforcement officer (right) questioning a suspect (left) while the victim (center) is cordoned off by green crime scene tape.
I hope laughing during church isn’t a sin because if it is, I’m going straight to hell after today. I really tried to be good. I tried so hard. I tried to ignore it, but the harder I tried, the funnier it became.
We had a guest preacher today. And I honestly have no idea if he was any good or not. I couldn’t even begin to tell you what our sermon was about because all I heard was one word: “Right?” Over and over and over.
(It was like the How I Met Your Mother episode with Robin’s “But, um.” Or South Park‘s Mr. Mackey and his “M’kay?”)
“You have to hear the word of God, right? And you have to believe the word of God, right? But that’s not enough, right? You have to act on that, right?”
I’m a horrible, horrible person. I was sitting right there in church thinking what a good drinking game this would make.
I seriously thought I was going to have to get up and leave. I was in tears trying to keep quiet.
Please tell me I’m not the only one. When have you laughed when it was completely inappropriate?
Pam has just finished a fast, hilly run and is standing in the master bathroom, peeling off running clothes, about to step in the shower.
D enters room and ogles.
Pam: Not now.
D: It’s too bad you’re not a nympho.
Pam: It’s too bad you’re not a millionaire.
Life is full of opportunity. Sometimes you don’t recognize it until it’s too late. Then sometimes you’re just at the right place at the right time when the planets align and prime opportunity presents itself. When you find yourself in that situation, you grab hold of that opportunity and you OWN it.
My husband totally blew it this weekend. You just don’t get many opportunities in life like he got Saturday night, and he totally blew it.
We were in PetSmart. I had to pee, so I went to the restroom while he was standing in line. When I made it back to the checkout counter, he was giggling like a schoolgirl. I was all, “What’s so funny?” Between giggles he was like, “I’ll tell you in a minute.”
He giggled through the rest of the transaction.
As we made our way back to the car he told me why, and I was so disappointed in him.
When he swiped his debit card and went to enter his PIN, the cashier, referring to their new touch-screen credit card machine, said, “It’s real sensitive. You don’t have to pound it.”
And my husband did NOT say, “That’s what she said.”
I thought I knew him better than that.
My dear doggie Bella probably came as close to having a canine coronary last night as one can come and live to remember it. This poor dog had the living shiz scared out of her, and it was all her own doing. See, when I’m cleaning the kitchen, she has this awful habit of trying to sneak her head into the dishwasher when I’m not looking and sneak licks off the dirty dishes on the bottom rack.
Well, my friends, she may have broken herself from that last night. She was up to her usual tricks, licking the ketchup off of a plate I had just put in the dishwasher. When I turned back around and saw her, I clapped my hands and gave her a sharp “NO!” and shooed her away.
And that’s when it happened. The big, bad dishwasher attacked my poor, innocent, defenseless puppy.
Her collar got caught on the rack, so when she jumped away, the rack with all of the dishes on it followed her. Of course it made a Godawful crash as glass dishes and silverware were scattered about the tile floor. She BOLTED, dragging the rack nearly into the living room with her before it finally came off. As she skidded into the living room, she ran smack into the end table, knocking it and the vase sitting on it over, making yet another loud crash and only adding to the trauma.
She ran to the couch and hid her face between the cushions. I had to leave the dishes in the floor and console that baby. I felt absolutely horrible for laughing, but it was soooooooooo funny to see this big bully breed dog literally cowering over something so stupid that she had done. As soon as I sat down beside her, she crawled in my lap and would not leave my side. Until I went into the kitchen to clean up her mess. She wouldn’t go back in there! She stayed in my lap the majority of the night. Nothing like a 50-pound lap dog!
Now onto not-so-humorous goings-on…
I went to the doctor today for the knot in my neck. It is a lymph node, and it is being treated as “suspicious.” He told me not to worry too much about it because there is the possibility that the lymph node for some reason has formed scar tissue and that’s what we’re feeling and it’s completely harmless. But since I am otherwise healthy with no other symptoms it should be regarded as having at least the potential of being something more sinister. He referred me to a surgeon for a consult and biopsy. The girl at the desk called the surgeon’s office and scheduled me with the surgeon for Friday, but I called and changed the appointment to next Wednesday. As you may or may not know, my 30th birthday is Sunday, and we have plans for Saturday night. I don’t want to have to worry about babying an incision in my neck if the surgeon decides it’s something he can do there in the office like my doc thinks he will. So for now I will just try not to worry about it until at least next Wednesday. Easier said than done.
I’ve read similar posts to this one on a couple of other blogs, but I don’t feel bad for being unoriginal because every woman who has ever cohabitated with a man for more than 30 seconds has her own version of this story to tell. Last night was the last night of a long, busy holiday weekend. I wanted something quick and easy for supper. The hubs and I decided on burgers and fries. But, as I said, it had been a busy weekend and I hadn’t made it to the grocery store. I had laundry going and was cleaning the bathroom, and D was playing on the computer and watching football simultaneously. He was all like, “Hey, baby, if you don’t want to stop what you’re doing I think I can peel my ass out of this chair that I’ve been sitting in all day long enough to go get the meat and buns and bring them home to you so that you can cook my supper after having washed my clothes and cleaned my house all day.” And I was, “No, sweetheart, that’s okay. I don’t want to interrupt your countless hours of football watching and Call of Duty playing. I would feel horrible!” (Sarcasm is my first language.) Anyway, long story short. My husband went to the grocery store. Alone. Without adult supervision. I sent him for one pound of hamburger meat and buns. I didn’t even stress him out with the details of fat content of the meat or insist on 100% whole grain buns. I made it plain and simple: MEAT AND BUNS. He came home with the following list of items:
I love my husband. But his Walmart privileges have been revoked indefinitely.