Craptacular

Just thought I'd share. While doing my "business" on my office toilet, I actually caught my head bobbing as I began to fall asleep. Time to pack it in for the night.

Slackerbigmomma

Tomorrow is Friday, yeah! My plan you ask? To sit outside and drink as many beers as possible before I fall into the ravine and roll to the bottom.

So here it is, a few minutes till 8 on Thursday night. Is there something wrong with me because I feel like a slacker for ending my work day so early? I do not recall, in the past few months, ending my work day while it was still light. Please let me know if you think I should seek psychiatric help...unfortunately I will have to wait until June as I'm just too busy right now....

Wanted: Dead or Alive

Contrary to the rumors, I am not dead. Just busy. Busy busy. It is THAT time of year in College Publishing. THAT time is when you work more than anything else. THAT time is when I am a stranger to those who know me. THAT time when Mr. Big Momma often finds me taking a crap (I conveniently have a toilet in my office) with my laptop on my lap. Gross, but time is money people! Eight more weeks and I'll be playing tennis everyday, drinking a beer each night and happily posting on the blog that I miss so much!






P.S. This guy is my hero, whoever he is! Sometimes you just have to multitask.

Public service announcement and a brief apology

I am begging you...listen very carefully. I am not responsible for what happens to you if you do not take this advice very carefully. DO NOT GO AND SEE VANTAGE POINT. I REPEAT, DO NOT GO AND SEE VANTAGE POINT. Yes, it stars Forest Whitaker. Don't be fooled by this. This is a terrible movie that wasn't even capable of amusing a teenager. We did have fun on the way home laughing about 1. Dennis Quaid's inablility to act, 2. The number of times they say POTUS and 3. How cars during the chase sequences appeared to be damanged, undamaged and then damaged again. So, that is $21 and 2 hours of my life that I won't get back. Don't make the same poor choice. I voted for Be Kind Rewind, but I never win.....

On to the hard part. I need to make an apology, here it goes.

Dear Girl Scouts of America,

Fellow sisters, you know I love you. But why am I always the last to have your tasty cookies delivered to my house? I hope you can understand, Girl Scouts who stood in front of The Hills Market today, that I felt betrayed when I say you peddling your treats to strangers. Strangers. Non-former Girl Scouts I'm sure. Don't you remember how I chased you down several months ago? You came to my house and Mr. Big Momma ordered. But the foolish man forgot to order the Thin Mints. Once I realized you were a Girl Scout and not selling magazines or crack, you were long gone. I ran like the wind in order to catch you, so determined to get my Thin Mints. So, to Troop 934, I must apologize. You didn't deserve the nasty and unrepeatable words that left my lips when I say you today outside The Hills Market. I was only upset because I felt abandonded, shunned. I can only now offer you my sincerest apology because just a few short minutes ago you knocked upon my door and delivered to me the best box of cookies you can only get once a year. Thank you Girl Scout and Father of Girl Scout (who actually drove her to deliver her cookies). As I am nearly finished with the first sleeve (yes, I am a total pig), I thank you.

Happy Selling,

Clintonville Big Momma



Who links to me?

Turdsday

Do you ever just feel like a turd? I'm not talking about feeling like crap, sick, illin. I'm talking about feeling like a turd, poop, a deuce. I suppose if you have felt this way, then you know what I am talking about. Why am I feeling this way? Good question. I have been asking myself this for the last couple of hours. The answer? Not quite sure. Just don't feel like myself. Case in point: tonight is parent teacher conferences. I normally LIVE for PTC. One of the highlights of my nerdy existence. But today, I really could care less. I would really rather sit home and toss a few brews back. Fortunately the nerd instinct is still there and I will go just like the good girl that I am. Ever feel tired of being who you are? And I don't mean that in the hurl myself off of a bridge sense. Sometimes I am just exhausted being me. These are the times when a career change crosses my mind. When I feel this way, I always think about becoming a greeter at WalMart. I hate WalMart and refuse to shop there, but doesn't it sound nice to have a job where your sole responsibility is saying hello to people? I'm pretty sure I would do a bang up job. I have been saying hello my entire life and therfore feel that I could be called an expert at it. Executive Senior Greeter? Lead Greeter? President of First Impressions? Hmmm.... The other perk of being a greeter is that there is absolutely no work to take home with you. Unless you count sore feet from standing all day. Or, as my grandma would say, "my dogs are barking" after a long day on her feet. I realize that I would never actually become a WalMart greeter, but the thought of doing something simple does cross my mind from time to time.

So in reality, maybe I feel like a turd because I am tired and ready for the weekend. Unfortunately it will be a "working weekend" for me since I've got a big report due on Monday. Maybe I feel like a turd because the toenail on my right big toe poked a hole in my sock today? I hate walking around with a toe hole. Maybe I feel like a turd because I was hit on by a professor yesterday who had so much hair in his nostrils that I wondered how he was able to breathe. Unfortunately for him, he had more hair in his nose than on his head. Hopefully I will wake up tomorrow feeling fresh and non-turd like. I'll keep ya posted.

So, in honor of my feeling like a turd, here is the movie quote for the week:


Person #1: You know those days when you get the mean reds?

Person #2: The mean reds, you mean like the blues?

Person #1: No. The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?

You know you are a tool if...

...you have one of those motivational posters, framed, on your office wall. Given that my main goal in life is to help others, here are some alternatives for you to consider.

I must admit that I have been on the lookout for a "Hang in There Baby" poster for many years....


Visit http://www.despair.com/ for more!

Who let the dog in?

Several weeks ago Mr. Big Momma and I made one of the biggest decisions of our married lives: to switch our bulk warehouse membership from Sam's Club to Costco. We have been Sam's member for 10 years, so it was a tough choice. Really. I am a creature of habit. And loyal to a fault. But it was time for a change, so Costo it is!

I love buying things in bulk. It makes me feel efficient and wise. And I love not worrying about running out of garbage bags, dishwashing liquid or laundry soap. If there is a nuclear disaster or some other freakish accident on earth, you will be glad that you know me. My bulk purchases could sustain half of Clintonville for a good few weeks. TP included.

I also buy the dog's pig ears in bulk. Costco had the ears, but they also had dog chicken jerky. I do believe that dogs love pig more than chicken, but maybe after eating the same snack for the last 10 years, it was time for a change for Sasha as well. And boy was I right. I have never seen her inhale food like the jerky. And this from the dog that has been known to carry around a pig ear for days before eating it.

The problem is that now my husband is eating them. Yes, he is a long time fan of jerky. But seriously, dog jerky? Yesterday afternoon I made chocolate chip cookies. They were perfect: chewy, sweet with a hint of salt, just the right about of chips and warm from just coming out of the oven. Mr. Big Momma walked right past MY cookies and helped himself to some dog jerky. He claims that they are really good, as good as human jerky. I am not willing to find out if he is correct. What's a girl to do? Woof, woof.