The Most Ironic Signs Of All Time: WIN

Psychics suffer power outage:
who could have known?

that's dedication~

Those would be my Wii Fit credit hours. Yes, not minutes that I've worked out today, but 77 hours plus change that I've used this thing since we got it.

Personally I found it a bit lame that the timer piggy doesn't change colors every ten hours once you pass fifty. I guess most people chuck the thing by then, eh?

No Tribbles, no troubles, just bunny butts.

Hoppitty, fluffy, bunny butts.
Oh, the squee!

Note to self: buy a years worth of Cadbury Eggs this week. Next week may be too late. Remember last year? Yah. We don't want THAT situation to happen again.

parents of children with special needs, listen up:

Taking care of children isn't easy, and those who have special needs can be far more complicated, whether those needs are learning disabilities or medical issues. There's a woman out there who wants to help, as she's living in the situation herself and knows it from the inside out. And she's AMAZING.

Go visit the article written up in The Asheville Citizen Times about them, and visit her web site- The Complete Caregiver.

Lynn is one in a million, and we are all blessed with her sharing her experience.

No. Way. Twice? What in the world have I done, so that I may do it more often? Blessed be to all dieties, just in case. Your hosannas I sing. All of them. Yes.

*pant pant* Finally. *gasp* Got laid. *pant sigh* Thought I was gonna *pant* die soon. *deep breath* YeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSsssssssss.......!

WangWear

Is it really? Could it be?

Oh, it most certainly is.

Enjoy.

fuck fail

Truly, it is pitiful that the closest I can get to having sex with my husband is poking him on Facebook.

Eeyore's got nothing on this.

Depression is like a hurricane, I have decided.

For those in a dark depression, let us say they are in the eye of the hurricane. Nothing seems to move, but around them everything is moving too fast, they don't want to step into that, who would? The effort is monumental.

For those near someone in a dark depression, it's hard not to stare at the eye and wish it was gone, because if you aren't in it, you're in the chaos that spins around it. The effort required to keep life from flying apart is monumental.

Eventually something's got to give.

For the people around the depressed person, you can choose to keep holding on and hope to ride out the storm, you can choose to let go, or you can choose to join them in the center.

Making that choice is monumental, as well.

*sigh*

On the up side, I found this bizarre pic while searching for images of Eeeyore:

turn it on, turn it off

breakfast joy~

Ent summons forth from potting soil~

lunchables: yum and crunch

bagels with veggie grilled "chicken" patties, carrot slices, spring lettuce, mozzarella cheese, slathered in apricot jam~ red potatoes with green beans and a basil butter sauce~ tortilla chips

still kicking ass, shizam!

Found out recently about my ex having sex with his best friends wife has me shaken: am I stupid when it comes to character or trust is an exercise in futility?

hanging in the doctor's office:

Feel free to ask yourself, "WHAT THE FUCK?!?" and then send this to everyone you know with the subject heading, "WHAT THE FUCK?!?" because seriously, I would really like to know what the fucking fuck is up with this fucking painting.

There's more pictures I took of close ups on different panels, but I think you can click on it and get a pretty good idea of what had me so freaked out. Was it the giraffe and zebra looking at other giraffes in....a drawer? Is that a morgue? Was it the not quite bloody but not quite not bloody instruments lying on every surface? Was it the red overhead emergency looking lighting? Is it the illegible writing on things? Or maybe the entirely wrapped up thing on a bed with a red X over it, like, "This shit is so dead." Was it the animals going up the impossibly steep stairway/escalator/weird striped slip and slide?

Whatever it is, it seemed like it was meant to be very disturbing, and it was gigantic (that's my water bottle down at the bottom of the picture), oh.... and it was behind the chair. So... was it not meant to be looked at?

I think it was not meant to be looked at, lest the patient come down with a really bad case of What The Fuck.

So... yep. I'll be here, if anyone figures it out.

*whistles while not looking over shoulder*

dinner last night:

some kind of veggie burger with mozzerella and lettuce, carrot chips and honey mustard on bagels, with green and wax beans, carrots in a cranberry (basil?) butter sauce.

One left over. Tempted to eat it for breakfast.

I wanna play!

fresh mozz, crackers, dates, apricots~

Caturday noms

Hmm, let's see.
Oranges, bananas on top of slices on two recently baked breads.

First: banana bread... with vanilla Kashi oatmeal, strawberries, blackberries, blueberries, Grape Nuts cereal, and a ton of whole raw almonds.

Second: zuchinni bread...with carrots, pineapples, raisins, walnuts, ginger, honey almond flax Kashi crunch...

There's just nothing like super hefty nourishing breads and fruit and tea.
*one deeply satisfied sigh*

a sticky reminder that I am not home

Little things like this make me realize that I don't feel like I belong here. One, I'm not a fan of bumper stickers- I like them on other peoples cars but not on mine. Two, even if I were to have bumper stickers, not one of them would be relative to beach life, despite the fact that I've lived within a few miles of it for what, six years now? It's just.... not me. I love the ocean, I do... but this is A Tourist Beach and the type of people it attracts actually repels me.

Folly Beach, in South Carolina, now THAT was a beach. Quiet, chill, waves, the occasional passerby *deep sigh* To me, that is what a beach is alllll about. Here you can barely hear the waves until you get right up on them because of all the freaking noise from the immense crowd. And all that crowded chaos makes me want to be anywhere BUT the beach, which is straight up sad.

I will move away and dream of a vacation at the beach, but that dream won't be Virginia Beach, no sirreebob. Even if I lived here my whole life I wouldn't put bumper stickers on my car of mermaids and flip flops and all the other stuff I see on a regular basis.

But then again, maybe these are the vehicles of people who have the money to own a house on the water, farther down the coast, just a mere half mile from The Beach it becomes quiet and what I think a beach should be...oh, until I take into account the jets that come screaming and roaring into and out of Oceana Naval Air Base. Still, the noise, noise, the noise noise noise noise! (Thinking of How The Grinch Stole Christmas and smiling.)

I just don't belong here. I moved here for love. I'm going to move away for sanity.

During the night I wondered why I feel awful, want to eat or am sickened by food, and after consideration I think my husbands depression is a contagion.

Feel so awful I got my son to school, got back in the car and burst into tears just sobbed hysterically for awhile. Times like this I wish for narcotics. Lots.

Dear humans with "My (insert dog breed here) is smarter than your honor student" bumper stickers: stop being a dumbass. I carry a Sharpie, don't make me use it.

boring calender- quick fix:

Last month had a very colorful and interesting bird, the Ring Necked Pheasant. When the cheap-o free calander that was given to us by our insurance company or some shit (and includes a day by day shaded in fish informing us when are the best days to go fishing, as if we care) was flipped to March I stepped back and said, "No. No, this will never do." In the middle of cooking I scribbled out some LOLspeak on Post It notes and voila. It took my husband most of a week to notice, but my son did right away. His response: "What's next month...? Oh, a duck, can I do the duck?" You betcha, buddy.

skeleton leather motorcycle stylin'?

itchy trigger finger?

That's a new one on me, I must confess- I've heard of paint by numbers, but shoot by numbers?

Some of my sons pants have hidden inner elastic bands you can button at intervals to help size them correctly. Why have I never seen womens pants that do that?

Undoubtedly one of the most beautiful festivals I've ever seen.

Holi 2010 - The Big Picture - Boston.com

We could all benefit from seeing each other as someone to adds colors to, not as colors to be judged by.
*nods*

lunch munch

veggie egg rolls with duck sauce, leftover ginger butternut squash soup poured over steamed broccolli, cauliflower, carrots, and a big fat mug of chai~

There was a lady in the post office that was "touched" (insane). As she loudly proclaimed many things, I kept thinking of the nutty cat lady from The Simpsons.

screamingly obvious designer does not have nor even know any children:

One of my favorite design sites offered up this doozy of a design that made me straight up want to slap a bitch-

Eva’s bed – Multiple Use Furniture Design for Children  /  Home Trends

Go ahead. Have a gander. I'll wait.

*whistles*

Did you catch it? Any of them? Seriously, there were quite a few design flaws that go beyond stupid and pass right into "You Secretly Hate Children, Don't You?"

First, the crib. It's pictured not against an empty flush wall which is a mere three feet to the other side, but instead it's up against an entire wall full of shit, nice, big, heavy shit that can fall and crush your baby. And although we can't clearly see what it is that's next to the crib, it does look suspiciously like a radiator. Let's give them the benefit of the doubt and assume it's not, because they're going to hell anyway.

Second, the mind numbing array of hard edged ninety degree angled opportunities to knock oneself out, poke out an eye, knock out your teeth, choke, fall, slip, become hopelessly maimed and/or die. Have these people never even seen the inside of a McDonald's PlayPlace, for fuck's sake? You can kill yourself in there, too but you damn well better be trying. It'd be easier to just lick the playground then find a way to cause yourself bodily harm.

Which brings me hopelessly to the third, the loft bed on top- sure, it's got a full wall on one side, but the other side offers a scant six, hell maybe even ten inches of shelving to hold in a thrashing child, a sleeping child, a could be confused and having a nightmare child from accidentally hurtling over that little ledge onto what appears to be a good eight foot drop to the floor. DeeeeLIGHTful!

That assumes you can pass the fourth horror which is the ladder itself. Or are those stairs? Whatever they are, they are steep as hell, have no handhold, open up into empty fucking space on one side and then you get to the platform at top...oh, wait. There is no platform. There is just a stairway that awkwardly ends at the end of the bed, which is sure to be easy to traverse both forward and backward, especially with no railing to hold onto. This entrance into the loft was designed while watching a nature documentary about sure footed mountain goats, perhaps? But what if there's a fire?! Oh, no need to fret, little Johnny can just roll up and over the little shelf and drop eight feet to the floor, his piercing screams alerting adults to his presence.

*smacks self in the head*

If this whole thing were five feet tall and made of medium density foam on a foam floor and foam walls, maybe.
But it's not.

*raspberries*

orange delectables~

Lunch today is brought to you by the color orange. Pumpkin ravioli with butternut squash, asparagus, apples, covered in a sage butter sauce. Ginger butternut squash soup and rosemary potato bread. Can you stand it? No, me neither, I had to sit down with my tea and eat it, eat it all up, nom nom nom...
Alas, as I sat down the maintenance guys showed up to replace our dishwasher and had been banging around in here, somehow made my kitchen smell like raw freaking sewage, and I am growing increasingly tired of the odd grunting noises one of them makes- part taking a poop/part potential orgasm/part pitiable sigh. At least they left a long enough space inbetween taking the old one out and putting the new one in that I attacked the kitchen with bleach and opened all the windows, then reheated my food and continued eating.
Such is life.

The Onion: amusement and disturbance in one tidy package.

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