Our family of six went to a local burger joint tonight. That's not news but by the time we left the place I was THISCLOSE to bludgeoning an employee. Instigating a severe mood change in me takes skills; to have me happy going into the place but bent on deep-frying murder on the way out?
Someone should get an award. A Customer Service of The Year Award.
It was a dark and stormy....okay, just a dark night, and being a fairly quiet one in the restaurant, the employees were busy at clean up. My brood bellied up to the counter and I caught a glimpse of an employee from the back. This Employee of the Month was dragging in the garbage cans from the back door. Apparently, she'd just been outside dumping the cans only to stop briefly to set aside her task and help us at the register.
Can you see where I am going with this?
We ordered. She smiled politely and handed us the drinking cups. With her bare hands.
I'm a little bit of a germaphobe. What good parent isn't? Kids get dirty. Absolutely, and yet I draw the line at nose picking, bathroom breaks, licking the grocery store floor, the ebola virus......and garbage handling.
For a split second, I considered waiting to complain when we were on our way out. I'm fairly easy going but I couldn't let it go, watching her touch my kids' drinking cups. I had to pipe up.
"Ma'am? Excuse me. I don't mean to be a problem, but you did just handle those garbage cans and now you are handling my kids' cups?"
Mr Coffee looked over at me. I can see he's thinking, OH, Lordy, here we go. The man wanted a meal, not creative indigestion. As I suspected, Hamburger Lady got defensive, also confirming Mr Coffee' worst case scenario. We wouldn't be hearing, I'm sorry.... or Ooops, I'll be right back! Instead she would be serving us spit burgers.
"FROM. the. bottom." She glared and enunciated each word. Her outstretched hand held up a cup to demonstrate her innocence and prove her point.
Gee, pawing something from the bottom with filthy hands absolves people from hand washing? I'll remember that next time I change a diaper.
I corrected her but politely, "Pardon me. I could see you were pulling them apart from the top and handing them to my kids." Ms Happy Pants shook her head at me disparagingly.
Translation: I don't freaking believe this.
I should have just asked her to wash her hands but I didn't. She continued whining, "I DON'T touch the garbage cans. I just drag them from the front to the big dumpster. (with your teeth?) It loads them up automatically. I don't touch them at. all. but I'll wash my hands if it makes you feel better."
And who knew Those Health Dept. People overreact so when it comes to poo and garbage.
"Thank you," I replied with a strained smile. Ms. Happy Pants washed up at the kitchen sink and in grand gesture, angrily threw the cups into the garbage cans. She continued taking our order as curt as you please. I ended up walking away to herd the kids while Mr Coffee finished paying. She began to get more and more agitated with Mr Coffee who, by the way, has the patience of a saint. He finally asked her after she nearly threw him a pen to sign the receipt, "Was her asking you to wash your hands that big of a problem?" He smiled, hoping to make light of her mood.
Ms. Happy Pants snipped, "SHE didn't ask me to wash. My hands are cleaner than an 8 year olds."
Poking at my kids? She wanted to die.
Mr Coffee grew very calm as his smile disappeared. From across the room, I could see his best Hitman Bob look sweep over his face. This is not one I see often. Perhaps, once in a blue moon but believe me, it's one that would keep Darth Vader wearing his pee pants. It's also very fortunate for her that I didn't hear her snotty remark because I would have gone slo-mo Matrix from across the counter and scissor-kicked her head into the deep fryer.
I'll show you special sauce...
Mr Coffee looked at her square in the eye, "Excuse me?" He was still being overtly polite, "I think you can appreciate that I just don't want my kids to get sick, yes?"
Then she stuck her foot in it, "If you were worried about germs you shouldn't be eating at a fast food restaurant."
Mr Coffee silently tucked away his wallet and headed over to our table. I asked him about it and he relayed to me her comments.
"ARE you kidding me...", I nearly choked on my iced-tea, "..does she want to lose her job?"
The manager walked out with our food. I wasn't aware but Mr Coffee had kept an eye on the grill and made sure he prepared it. Spit burgers, remember? Mr Coffee asked if he was the manager, "That would be me," he replied hesitantly. Managers don't want to wear pee pants either.
Manager Dude looked not a day over 21 but due to his Super Boss prowess, he immediately apologized, "I'm so sorry. She has a bad attitude. I'll have to speak to her. Can I get you shakes on the house?"
"We'd appreciate that." Translation: Well, duh. Ice cream makes everything better.
He made us a round of fresh raspberry shakes. They were outstandingly yummy, as usual. The shakes are why we frequent the place...that and their in-season, giant Walla Walla Onion Rings. double yum!
I don't think I've ever been treated that rudely in customer service before. Incompetent employees, sure that happens pretty much everywhere but never flat out rude.
So, what would you have done..especially if you had the ability to scissor-kick heads?
~Bee has never washed her hands before she opens a can of whoop'ass
29 July 2008
25 July 2008
Bee Is Not Shticky Or Boring
Welcome to The Hour Of Confession. It's been never since I openly confessed on my blog and really, it's only God who cares or matters. He is awesome like that, so it's all good.
I was reading at a new blog because that is what you do when you only have a third of the readers you once had on a now defunct blog shut down by comment terrorism and meddling mouth breathers. I'm attempting to discover other bloggers that have my same sense of demented dry humor. Why is a sense of humor so important? Because if you haven't noticed, I have a fondness for laughing and can make light of most anything remotely worth making light of, to the point of, snorting my coffee, but notwithstanding hereto, what for, and all of the above.
Why a sense of humor? Again you ask. Have you been eating too many Splenda packets and did you run out of Olde Gold 800 again?
If you want serious, political, religious, or simply something to get depressed about, turn on your local news. I am the water to their vinegar and sweetness to their sour. I am the balm of life and love and they are pretty much the bringers of mood death to all good people everywhere. I am the fresh picked rose, full of fragrance and color while they are the heaping mound of horse doody at the front of a parade route. They are the pay toilets in the hospital's diarrhea ward and I am their coinage and squeezable Charmin. I could go on..... In my defense, I admittedly do not have Anchorwoman Helmet Hair and cheeseball smile so I am forced by default. Instead, I have long, flowing auburn hair, if you must know. Very un-anchorwomanly. More Panteney or Nexxussey.
BUT I bet you a dead dude in a body bag, the local news could never assist you so readily in passing that stubborn kidney stone during a fit of laughter.
~Takes a bow~
Today I will open up and and show you a more personal side to my silliness. I'll still be showing you silliness, of course, but I prefer the more intellectually silly that understandably means I am a brilliant wit. Or is that twit? I forget.
Enough with the allegory, I will share with you a few things in life that I simply cannot do without. Laughter, coffee, and blogging are obviously at the top of this list albeit, I shall not be listing those for sake of all that is unknown and brilliantly witty.
Things I absolutely cannot live without:
1) Coffee Cups
I've been labeled a coffee cup whore by a close friend. My issue is if I cannot procure a clean cup for my daily cups of joe AND with the proper grip around the mug with my fingers laced in the handle? You might as well load me up with an arsenic cocktail because life is not worth living. My problem is I can't seem to own enough coffee cups. This is only a third of the collection. The bright side to having lots of coffee cups around is that I can keep my children from chugging their chocolate milk from my good wine glasses. Click image to see it fully.
For you coffee cup lovers, SarahGrace can
be found here.
2)Tweezers
On a daily basis, I remove a small toupee from my adam's apple to reveal what was once my smooth, bare neck. I kid you not and adding insult to injury one has now gone gray. In the light it appears to blink like a strobe light or some dive bar sign that says, "Ladies Bee Night". Of course, it blinks, "Ladies Bee Night" because the "R" in Beer is burnt out. I'm going to be calling Guinness Book of World Records soon and going down in bookish infamy as the first woman to grow a backwards mullet out my neck. I would also be a close second for caterpillar eyebrow, second only to Mr Bean.
Notice that eyebrow is not plural and why? Tweezers keep me in check. They are my golden ticket to beardlessness. In fact, Mr Coffee and I have an agreement. If I were to go into a coma, he would have someone come in to pluck, tweeze, and/or wax my head region at least once a week. I could care less if I could braid my armpit hair by the time I awoke. I'd really be okay with Cro-Magnon Brow, with the exception that I wasn't also looking like Mr Bean. The shock would probably put me back into another coma.
3)Vitamins
No, not Mommy's Little Helpers. I don't even take IB's unless I am dying. I'm talking about supplements. I'm a busy woman, with blogs to read, soaps to watch, and neighbors to offend. I don't have time to always sit and eat even with my healthy diet. Who eats radishes and raw tomatoes for snacks? Who drinks her glass of kefir everyday with her bran flakes and can digest on command? That would be me. I take my multi-vitamin, vitamin E, B-complex, fish oil, acai/cranberry pills, calcium, and magnesium every day. My skin is always affected by lack of vitamin E and I end up with bowling ball zits that come from deep within my gall bladder. Magnesium is also my savior as one calcium pill will clog me faster than a block of cheese. Perhaps that is TMI? Probably so...
4)Nexxus Heat Protexx
Again, with the hair. Despite the fact that I am going bald and my hair is now growing into a backwards mullet, I have to condition, condition, condition. I have hair to the middle of my back but it takes a lot of work. I squirt some leave-in conditioner into the bottle of Heat Protexx and spray away any time my hair looks frizzed. I don't like my hair up in a clip (Mr Coffee calls this a BCD..Birth Control Device) and my hair is so long that pony tails give me headaches. Thus the need to keep my hair looking nice. On occasion I end up using a flat iron, this spritzing also helps protect. See? Protexx..Protect? Those Nexxus people are so darn clever. I bet they went to college.
5)My Treadmill
It's not technically my treadmill. The machine of torture belongs to the clubhouse at our apartment complex. This is a good thing because if I had it in the apartment it would end up proverbially buried under laundry. I don't typically blog about my weight because it bores the shtick out of ME, let alone you, gentle reader. The treadmill keeps me moving so my neighbors below can unclench their wadded unders when I forego practicing my riverdancing routines in our 2nd story apartment.
Now the question is this: What are the five things you could not live without?
(if you blog this, feel free to drop the link in comments.)
~Bee made up words for this post just for fun
I was reading at a new blog because that is what you do when you only have a third of the readers you once had on a now defunct blog shut down by comment terrorism and meddling mouth breathers. I'm attempting to discover other bloggers that have my same sense of demented dry humor. Why is a sense of humor so important? Because if you haven't noticed, I have a fondness for laughing and can make light of most anything remotely worth making light of, to the point of, snorting my coffee, but notwithstanding hereto, what for, and all of the above.
Why a sense of humor? Again you ask. Have you been eating too many Splenda packets and did you run out of Olde Gold 800 again?
If you want serious, political, religious, or simply something to get depressed about, turn on your local news. I am the water to their vinegar and sweetness to their sour. I am the balm of life and love and they are pretty much the bringers of mood death to all good people everywhere. I am the fresh picked rose, full of fragrance and color while they are the heaping mound of horse doody at the front of a parade route. They are the pay toilets in the hospital's diarrhea ward and I am their coinage and squeezable Charmin. I could go on..... In my defense, I admittedly do not have Anchorwoman Helmet Hair and cheeseball smile so I am forced by default. Instead, I have long, flowing auburn hair, if you must know. Very un-anchorwomanly. More Panteney or Nexxussey.
BUT I bet you a dead dude in a body bag, the local news could never assist you so readily in passing that stubborn kidney stone during a fit of laughter.
~Takes a bow~
Today I will open up and and show you a more personal side to my silliness. I'll still be showing you silliness, of course, but I prefer the more intellectually silly that understandably means I am a brilliant wit. Or is that twit? I forget.
Enough with the allegory, I will share with you a few things in life that I simply cannot do without. Laughter, coffee, and blogging are obviously at the top of this list albeit, I shall not be listing those for sake of all that is unknown and brilliantly witty.
Things I absolutely cannot live without:
1) Coffee Cups
I've been labeled a coffee cup whore by a close friend. My issue is if I cannot procure a clean cup for my daily cups of joe AND with the proper grip around the mug with my fingers laced in the handle? You might as well load me up with an arsenic cocktail because life is not worth living. My problem is I can't seem to own enough coffee cups. This is only a third of the collection. The bright side to having lots of coffee cups around is that I can keep my children from chugging their chocolate milk from my good wine glasses. Click image to see it fully.
For you coffee cup lovers, SarahGrace canbe found here.
2)Tweezers
On a daily basis, I remove a small toupee from my adam's apple to reveal what was once my smooth, bare neck. I kid you not and adding insult to injury one has now gone gray. In the light it appears to blink like a strobe light or some dive bar sign that says, "Ladies Bee Night". Of course, it blinks, "Ladies Bee Night" because the "R" in Beer is burnt out. I'm going to be calling Guinness Book of World Records soon and going down in bookish infamy as the first woman to grow a backwards mullet out my neck. I would also be a close second for caterpillar eyebrow, second only to Mr Bean.
Notice that eyebrow is not plural and why? Tweezers keep me in check. They are my golden ticket to beardlessness. In fact, Mr Coffee and I have an agreement. If I were to go into a coma, he would have someone come in to pluck, tweeze, and/or wax my head region at least once a week. I could care less if I could braid my armpit hair by the time I awoke. I'd really be okay with Cro-Magnon Brow, with the exception that I wasn't also looking like Mr Bean. The shock would probably put me back into another coma.
3)Vitamins
No, not Mommy's Little Helpers. I don't even take IB's unless I am dying. I'm talking about supplements. I'm a busy woman, with blogs to read, soaps to watch, and neighbors to offend. I don't have time to always sit and eat even with my healthy diet. Who eats radishes and raw tomatoes for snacks? Who drinks her glass of kefir everyday with her bran flakes and can digest on command? That would be me. I take my multi-vitamin, vitamin E, B-complex, fish oil, acai/cranberry pills, calcium, and magnesium every day. My skin is always affected by lack of vitamin E and I end up with bowling ball zits that come from deep within my gall bladder. Magnesium is also my savior as one calcium pill will clog me faster than a block of cheese. Perhaps that is TMI? Probably so...
4)Nexxus Heat Protexx
Again, with the hair. Despite the fact that I am going bald and my hair is now growing into a backwards mullet, I have to condition, condition, condition. I have hair to the middle of my back but it takes a lot of work. I squirt some leave-in conditioner into the bottle of Heat Protexx and spray away any time my hair looks frizzed. I don't like my hair up in a clip (Mr Coffee calls this a BCD..Birth Control Device) and my hair is so long that pony tails give me headaches. Thus the need to keep my hair looking nice. On occasion I end up using a flat iron, this spritzing also helps protect. See? Protexx..Protect? Those Nexxus people are so darn clever. I bet they went to college.
5)My Treadmill
It's not technically my treadmill. The machine of torture belongs to the clubhouse at our apartment complex. This is a good thing because if I had it in the apartment it would end up proverbially buried under laundry. I don't typically blog about my weight because it bores the shtick out of ME, let alone you, gentle reader. The treadmill keeps me moving so my neighbors below can unclench their wadded unders when I forego practicing my riverdancing routines in our 2nd story apartment.
Now the question is this: What are the five things you could not live without?
(if you blog this, feel free to drop the link in comments.)
~Bee made up words for this post just for fun
22 July 2008
I'm Afraid Not
I recently read another blogger that put up a quick sentence on things she didn't like. I thought it would be a good way to open up comments and make fun of our fears. It's easier to laugh at them than allowing them to rule our lives. Don't you think? Here are some of mine:
I'm afraid of Hammer Pants, pork rinds, crimped hair, cheese in a can, bugs crawling in my ear while I sleep, being out of wine, blue eyeshadow, becoming complacent, tube tops, tattoos that get old and look like they've turn into some grey looking blob thingie, Splenda, intestinal parasites from eating pork, men with 70's esque basketball shorts, menudo (the soup) and tripe, black stalkings w/white shoes, man b00bies, getting so fat I have to use an electric wheelchair to cart my arse around Target, clip on plastic hat visors, yard ornaments cut out like mushrooms and giant granny panties, a Planet of the Apes Weekend Marathon and the grand poobah...The Burger King Dude.
I'd love to know what things make you afraid?
~Bee is also afraid no one will wish Dapoppins a Happy Birthday today!
I'm afraid of Hammer Pants, pork rinds, crimped hair, cheese in a can, bugs crawling in my ear while I sleep, being out of wine, blue eyeshadow, becoming complacent, tube tops, tattoos that get old and look like they've turn into some grey looking blob thingie, Splenda, intestinal parasites from eating pork, men with 70's esque basketball shorts, menudo (the soup) and tripe, black stalkings w/white shoes, man b00bies, getting so fat I have to use an electric wheelchair to cart my arse around Target, clip on plastic hat visors, yard ornaments cut out like mushrooms and giant granny panties, a Planet of the Apes Weekend Marathon and the grand poobah...The Burger King Dude.
I'd love to know what things make you afraid?
~Bee is also afraid no one will wish Dapoppins a Happy Birthday today!
20 July 2008
Reason I Love Mr Coffee #577
The kids were out swimming and saw Mr Coffee was finally home from work.
It's been warm around here. They begged him to come into the pool.
What does he do?
He handed me his hat and the contents of his pockets.....and jumped in fully clothed with work boots on. Spontaneous way to end a long, hot work day.
~Bee likes SPF 4000.
It's been warm around here. They begged him to come into the pool.
What does he do?
He handed me his hat and the contents of his pockets.....and jumped in fully clothed with work boots on. Spontaneous way to end a long, hot work day.
~Bee likes SPF 4000.
15 July 2008
Gimme A Smooch
I've been doing some blog maintenance. This is not the reason I have gone missing today. You see, today my carpets were subjected to a well-overdue cleaning. I mean well-overdue as in Dash The Carpet With a Bowl of Spaghetti Oh's and Not Notice The Stain type of overdue.
And WHO is the coffee drinker that left a big spot on the floor?! Oh, wait...never mind.
I wonder if my carpet cleaner guy thought it odd that I offered to kiss him after he cleaned my carpets. He managed to get out the coffee spot, the gum spot(s), AND a red juice blob on the floor. Red juice = The Devil's Coffee.
I bet he gets kissed a lot. No, not the Devil. The carpet cleaner guy.
Being semi-kicked out of my apartment wasn't bad, just that I am a big wienie and needed to find another source of A/C. I need snowballs flying out of our A/C to be happy, so I did my errands in the van, went shopping, and then ventured out to the pool with the kids. It's a hard life getting tan while my carpets were drying. Such a hard miserable life turning into one large freckle of a tan.
I know you are wondering, "What is the REAL reason you have abandoned us online, you freckled ~strike~ freckle, coffee-drinking, snowball-loving, smoochie-faced heathen?!"
It's nothing exciting, except I've been moving a few posts over from a closed blog. I've been blogging on Blogger since November 2004, and I have a number of posts that are still worthy of reading. I also found a few that would bring on sheer boredom and the sudden urge to ram a steel spike through your eyeball. Rest assured, I will not be moving those posts.
Glancing over the old blog last night, I found this story about a dim bulb moment, Coffee Makes Me Horny. Go read and laugh at my stupidity. I know you want to.
I shall leave you until next time, with words from my 8 year old Zus, pouring forth wisdom to his little sister: "Don't kiss me on the lips! You don't want to have any babies!"
Hey, as long as they don't look like the carpet cleaner guy.
~Bee kisses Mr Coffee a lot.
And WHO is the coffee drinker that left a big spot on the floor?! Oh, wait...never mind.
I wonder if my carpet cleaner guy thought it odd that I offered to kiss him after he cleaned my carpets. He managed to get out the coffee spot, the gum spot(s), AND a red juice blob on the floor. Red juice = The Devil's Coffee.
I bet he gets kissed a lot. No, not the Devil. The carpet cleaner guy.
Being semi-kicked out of my apartment wasn't bad, just that I am a big wienie and needed to find another source of A/C. I need snowballs flying out of our A/C to be happy, so I did my errands in the van, went shopping, and then ventured out to the pool with the kids. It's a hard life getting tan while my carpets were drying. Such a hard miserable life turning into one large freckle of a tan.
I know you are wondering, "What is the REAL reason you have abandoned us online, you freckled ~strike~ freckle, coffee-drinking, snowball-loving, smoochie-faced heathen?!"
It's nothing exciting, except I've been moving a few posts over from a closed blog. I've been blogging on Blogger since November 2004, and I have a number of posts that are still worthy of reading. I also found a few that would bring on sheer boredom and the sudden urge to ram a steel spike through your eyeball. Rest assured, I will not be moving those posts.
Glancing over the old blog last night, I found this story about a dim bulb moment, Coffee Makes Me Horny. Go read and laugh at my stupidity. I know you want to.
I shall leave you until next time, with words from my 8 year old Zus, pouring forth wisdom to his little sister: "Don't kiss me on the lips! You don't want to have any babies!"
Hey, as long as they don't look like the carpet cleaner guy.
~Bee kisses Mr Coffee a lot.
08 July 2008
Bearded Lady Advising Sucks Like My Math Scores
There is nothing that makes you feel more inadequate than a test. Well, except for an advanced kick-boxing class. Those kick-boxing people really know how to pull the big fat baby out of me. I'm the whiner who cries for mercy from the corner after rolling up in fetal position.
Yes, I am sure of it. Testing for college placement is a close second.
I finished my college placement tests yesterday. After finishing, I went to the front desk lady and stated dryly, "Congratulations. You've finished your testing and you are really stupid." She giggled and assured me everyone feels that way the first time. I did not know there were people in customer service jobs that still had a sense of humor.
Can you guess how I did on the math portion?
I sucked big-time. I didn't even get to trig or calculus. Just the thought of trig made me choke on my own spit. The bright side though? My test scores must have been the more common big-time sucking because I placed in entry level college math. Not bad for being out of school since 1990.
Now the good news. Can anyone guess how I did on the written and comprehension portion?
I am apparently a freaking Harvard English Professor and even induced an eyebrow raising from the front desk lady. She said she was impressed. I think she tells everyone that.
Everyone SMART, that is.
I guess there is more to blogging than just a load of tomfoolery.
After getting my testing results, exchanging recipes and hair-coloring secrets with my new front desk BFFs, I made it up to the advisor. Advisor lady was not helpful and could not care less that I made really good cornbread. On that note, she probably colored her hair from a box. Of Lovin' Care.
Advisor Lady was not my peep and did not have a sense of humor. She seemed more occupied with her rainbow paraphernalia about her cubical and stroking her facial whiskers than helping me determine my class schedule. She quickly showed a list of required classes for the radiology program accompanied with a college booklet. I tried hard not to look at her goatee glinting in the fluorescent lighting which was a less than flattering accentuation of her 'not tan' complexion.
Do I have to figure this all out by myself?
Where was my class scheduling?
What is the difference between Biology 162 and 163?
I need some help here, Advisor Lady, and don't make me get out the mustache trimmer!
Rumor has it, as does the facts stated on the pamphlet she gave me, this particular radiology program is highly competitive. I going to have to bring my 'A' game to class. I'm ready to rumble and if someone wants top honors, you will have to fight me for top dog
Registration doesn't happen until August, so I checked that all my ducks were in a row...pre-registration, financial aid, placement scores, etc...etc.... Until then, I'll be picking out what math and biology classes I'll be taking. Who else is taking Math Idiots 101?
After years of wishing I could go to school, I am thrilled to be going for reals. FURREALS.
~Bee cried happy tears when she registered for college
Yes, I am sure of it. Testing for college placement is a close second.
I finished my college placement tests yesterday. After finishing, I went to the front desk lady and stated dryly, "Congratulations. You've finished your testing and you are really stupid." She giggled and assured me everyone feels that way the first time. I did not know there were people in customer service jobs that still had a sense of humor.
Can you guess how I did on the math portion?
I sucked big-time. I didn't even get to trig or calculus. Just the thought of trig made me choke on my own spit. The bright side though? My test scores must have been the more common big-time sucking because I placed in entry level college math. Not bad for being out of school since 1990.
Now the good news. Can anyone guess how I did on the written and comprehension portion?
I am apparently a freaking Harvard English Professor and even induced an eyebrow raising from the front desk lady. She said she was impressed. I think she tells everyone that.
Everyone SMART, that is.
I guess there is more to blogging than just a load of tomfoolery.
After getting my testing results, exchanging recipes and hair-coloring secrets with my new front desk BFFs, I made it up to the advisor. Advisor lady was not helpful and could not care less that I made really good cornbread. On that note, she probably colored her hair from a box. Of Lovin' Care.
Advisor Lady was not my peep and did not have a sense of humor. She seemed more occupied with her rainbow paraphernalia about her cubical and stroking her facial whiskers than helping me determine my class schedule. She quickly showed a list of required classes for the radiology program accompanied with a college booklet. I tried hard not to look at her goatee glinting in the fluorescent lighting which was a less than flattering accentuation of her 'not tan' complexion.
Do I have to figure this all out by myself?
Where was my class scheduling?
What is the difference between Biology 162 and 163?
I need some help here, Advisor Lady, and don't make me get out the mustache trimmer!
Rumor has it, as does the facts stated on the pamphlet she gave me, this particular radiology program is highly competitive. I going to have to bring my 'A' game to class. I'm ready to rumble and if someone wants top honors, you will have to fight me for top dog
Registration doesn't happen until August, so I checked that all my ducks were in a row...pre-registration, financial aid, placement scores, etc...etc.... Until then, I'll be picking out what math and biology classes I'll be taking. Who else is taking Math Idiots 101?
After years of wishing I could go to school, I am thrilled to be going for reals. FURREALS.
~Bee cried happy tears when she registered for college
06 July 2008
Taking the Poo out of Pool
In other news, I've been living by the pool this summer and it takes me back to a post I did a while back about pool etiquette.
Pool etiquette does not phase me until I have a muffin topped, bikini clad apartment dweller running around with a beer in their hand as they open the locked gate for anyone and everyone.
In light of said horrors, I've taken the liberty of concocting some rules of my own at the pool. Too bad I can't post these on a big sign on the clubhouse.
I've recently read that moderate swimming is as good as walking 4 mph. I know I'm doing something good for the kids, despite the deplorable lack of decorum at the pool stabbing at my mind's eye. It's a universal truth that the bigger the muffin top the smaller the bikini.
Full length mirrors are found at most major retailers, so there should be no excuses. I've never been afraid of swimsuit shopping but there are many a mom who are afraid to swim with their kids.
Who cares what your size is, just keep it covered. If you have to squeeze yourself into a two-piece, this not the suit for you. If it's a muffin shop and not a muffin top, wrong suit! I don't believe you are making a political statement about atomic bomb testing with your mushroom cloud waistband fallout. Please find a suit that fits, perhaps a one piece bathing dress would suit you better.
If you appear as if you are in search of Marti Gras beads when you pull yourself out of the pool, please consider a top that covers more than two round bandaids. Sweet childhood therapy, you might put an eye out. You might put someone else's eye out or worse, solicit the stares of the husbands who sit watching kids. The wives know this and if you continue with your display, they will indeed show you good use of duct tape and the spacious trunk of a mini van.
Many Bothans died to give you this information.
If you wear a bikini because you do have a smoking bod, good for you but keep the goods covered.
If by chance you also are a single mom and flirting with the married men swimming with their children, you will appear desperate and cheap. It's also the fastest way to get hog tied and thrown into the deep end of the pool. I'm all for looking nice at the pool. I really am but for flirts of this kind, I will summons any and all children to scream and cannonball you until you leave.
If you suffer from second degree burns from the day previous, sunscreen will not afford you two more hours in the pool. Why it's hard for people to understand, I don't get it... For instance, you burn out in the sun. Sunscreen will not magically unburn you. Sunscreen is a preventative not a force field.
If you have kids that cannot swim, the chances are slim that your toddler will be able to swim when their little inner tube pops or water wings suddenly deflate. If you would not consider leaving your home for the evening with an inner tube babysitting your children, then the pool should be no exception. Reading a book by the pool does not count. I do not enjoy diving in fully clothed to pull your child from drowning.
I have four children that love to swim. I myself, love to swim. This does not make me the resident pool babysitter. Grunting at me will only help if you are asking nicely to be scissor kicked in the head.
If you have more cottage cheese than a dairy farm I will politely look away. I understand. I do. I'm all for the Dove idea of beauty, don't think I'm shallow. Face it, girls and guys, cellulite is a fact of life and therefore cover ups were invented for good reason. Swim shorts are also a great alternative. Both are affordable as well as accessible at any major retailer. They come in prints, solids...and my swim shorts are black.
Lastly, if you are two teenagers poolside, and loudly commenting how 'like, huge people are' and 'how annoying the kids are', this is also the fastest way to get your mouth turned into a pool filter. I won't make fun of how many times, you say, "..ohmaaagaaah you got me wet!" when you are sitting with feet in the pool. I will also forgo mentioning your tongue piercing and muffin top swimsuit. In return, you won't make remarks about....
Oh, who am I kidding, I'm totally going to blog you.
~Bee concludes her pool side etiquette.
Pool etiquette does not phase me until I have a muffin topped, bikini clad apartment dweller running around with a beer in their hand as they open the locked gate for anyone and everyone.
In light of said horrors, I've taken the liberty of concocting some rules of my own at the pool. Too bad I can't post these on a big sign on the clubhouse.
I've recently read that moderate swimming is as good as walking 4 mph. I know I'm doing something good for the kids, despite the deplorable lack of decorum at the pool stabbing at my mind's eye. It's a universal truth that the bigger the muffin top the smaller the bikini.
Full length mirrors are found at most major retailers, so there should be no excuses. I've never been afraid of swimsuit shopping but there are many a mom who are afraid to swim with their kids.
Who cares what your size is, just keep it covered. If you have to squeeze yourself into a two-piece, this not the suit for you. If it's a muffin shop and not a muffin top, wrong suit! I don't believe you are making a political statement about atomic bomb testing with your mushroom cloud waistband fallout. Please find a suit that fits, perhaps a one piece bathing dress would suit you better.
If you appear as if you are in search of Marti Gras beads when you pull yourself out of the pool, please consider a top that covers more than two round bandaids. Sweet childhood therapy, you might put an eye out. You might put someone else's eye out or worse, solicit the stares of the husbands who sit watching kids. The wives know this and if you continue with your display, they will indeed show you good use of duct tape and the spacious trunk of a mini van.
Many Bothans died to give you this information.
If you wear a bikini because you do have a smoking bod, good for you but keep the goods covered.
If by chance you also are a single mom and flirting with the married men swimming with their children, you will appear desperate and cheap. It's also the fastest way to get hog tied and thrown into the deep end of the pool. I'm all for looking nice at the pool. I really am but for flirts of this kind, I will summons any and all children to scream and cannonball you until you leave.
If you suffer from second degree burns from the day previous, sunscreen will not afford you two more hours in the pool. Why it's hard for people to understand, I don't get it... For instance, you burn out in the sun. Sunscreen will not magically unburn you. Sunscreen is a preventative not a force field.
If you have kids that cannot swim, the chances are slim that your toddler will be able to swim when their little inner tube pops or water wings suddenly deflate. If you would not consider leaving your home for the evening with an inner tube babysitting your children, then the pool should be no exception. Reading a book by the pool does not count. I do not enjoy diving in fully clothed to pull your child from drowning.
I have four children that love to swim. I myself, love to swim. This does not make me the resident pool babysitter. Grunting at me will only help if you are asking nicely to be scissor kicked in the head.
If you have more cottage cheese than a dairy farm I will politely look away. I understand. I do. I'm all for the Dove idea of beauty, don't think I'm shallow. Face it, girls and guys, cellulite is a fact of life and therefore cover ups were invented for good reason. Swim shorts are also a great alternative. Both are affordable as well as accessible at any major retailer. They come in prints, solids...and my swim shorts are black.
Lastly, if you are two teenagers poolside, and loudly commenting how 'like, huge people are' and 'how annoying the kids are', this is also the fastest way to get your mouth turned into a pool filter. I won't make fun of how many times, you say, "..ohmaaagaaah you got me wet!" when you are sitting with feet in the pool. I will also forgo mentioning your tongue piercing and muffin top swimsuit. In return, you won't make remarks about....
Oh, who am I kidding, I'm totally going to blog you.
~Bee concludes her pool side etiquette.
03 July 2008
Drink and Drive and I'll Scissor Kick Your Head
I hope you all have a fantastic Fourth of July weekend. We love our fireworks in this state, so mortars will abound while the sound of fire engines mix it up with the explosions.
We are Washingtonians. We are pyros. Resistance is futile.
Take time to remember that many men died for your independence. Independence in speech, in relationships, in religion, in freedoms that make this country one of the best in the world.
However, these men did not die for you to be stupid and drink and drive. Be safe, find a designated driver or a couch. If you are lucky you may just find a designated driver on the couch with you.
(Wocka wocka!)
Happy Fourth of July!!
We are Washingtonians. We are pyros. Resistance is futile.
Take time to remember that many men died for your independence. Independence in speech, in relationships, in religion, in freedoms that make this country one of the best in the world.
However, these men did not die for you to be stupid and drink and drive. Be safe, find a designated driver or a couch. If you are lucky you may just find a designated driver on the couch with you.
(Wocka wocka!)
Happy Fourth of July!!
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