I've recently updated my profile again, and updated the random question, because I'm sure you're getting bored of the old one after reading my profile SOO many times over and over again, right? And just like last time, it really takes much more space than you're allowed to get the full answer in...so here it is, the full answer you've desperately been waiting for!
Sponges and tongues are frequently misspelled. Is it because both are thirsty?
Okay, tongues I understand, there’s that random u and it’s just not overly intuitive, but do people really misspell sponges? How do you spell it otherwise? Spounge? Spongue? Spunge? Hmm, now that I type it that way, it does look – well no, it still LOOKS wrong, but that’s probably just because I actually know how to spell, having passed fifth grade and all – but it looks like it would be sponge while sponge could look more like sponge (with a hard O). I can see it.
So now that we’ve got that part solved, what is this part about them being thirsty? Seriously, who do they pay to come up with these random questions? Because I feel they may possibly not have much intelligence but still get paid far more than I will ever make. Do you suppose that’s a good jumping board for a writer? I’m imagining my resume now, and the interviewer looking it over, “What is this about random question writer for blogger.com?”
How exactly does one explain that position? “Well, one of my most memorable random questions was relating to the common misspelling of the words sponge and tongue. I posed the question as to whether they’re thirsty and this is what causes the frequent mistakes.”
Blank stare. “As in, the words themselves are thirsty?”
“Yes, precisely.”
Interviewer clears throat, straightens paper edges on the table a few times, looks at the remainder of the resume… “Yes, well thank you for coming in today. We’ll…ah…we’ll be in touch, I suppose.”
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Sunglasses? Weed?
Another funny story from Cabo - vacations are awesome in that way, I could probably write 50 more blogs about just that one week. I won't, don't worry, but I'm going to write at least one more. Or maybe two...
To start off, as anyone who has been to anywhere in Mexico will know, there are constantly vendors of...stuff. Everywhere. Pushing trinkets and souvenirs to unsuspecting tourists. Or, I suppose by the time they get out of the airport, they're no longer unsuspecting, but that's not the point.
Now, first of all, these vendors see me, and they just KNOW that I'm the one to go after. They push through crowds to get to me, follow me for blocks, haggle endlessly, KNOWING, without a doubt in their minds, that if anyone will break down today, it will be THIS girl. Seriously, I think it's written on my face. *Pushover!* *Gullible!* *Can't say no!* *Guilty conscience -- mention your children!*
I am not kidding you when I tell you that vendors IN THE MIDDLE OF A SALE would run over to me and offer their wares. So, I was absolutely positive I'd heard and seen all they had to offer by the 6th day we'd been there.
I was wrong.
I'd learned to do my best to not look them in the eye, not dare even glance at what they were holding, say nothing other than, "No, thank you." It only encouraged them. For me, encouragement was the last thing they needed.
On the night my husband and I went on our sunset dinner cruise (ahhh...) and the in-laws watched the little guy, we were walking down the pier for the millionth time, sun just setting behind us (Oh yeah, the boat totally docked before the sun set. The bastards. I wanted my money back. Thankfully, the in-laws paid for that one too...) So, not unexpectedly we were approached by a man with a huge bag on his back and a briefcase in his hand, "Pretty bracelet? Weed?"
I stopped. Damn it! But I couldn't help myself. I looked at my husband, who looked as shocked as me, and we both looked over at the guy. He held out his briefcase expectantly. It only had jewelry. Nothing we hadn't seen 300 times that day. I shook my head quickly and hastened my step hoping he hadn't gotten any ideas from the hesitation.
I leaned over to question my husband if he'd heard the same thing as me, but before I had a chance, another voice asked, "Sunglasses? Weed?"
I raised my eyebrows and tugged at his hand, I could not be making this up. But looking at the vendor again, he only held out his armful of sunglasses. I should have known it was real when they let me walk away so easily. Just in case I was undercover Federali. You never know what they'll be disguised as, you know.
"Pretty dress? Weed?"
"Whistle? Weed?"
"Blanket? Weed?"
"Kite? Weed?"
For real! Every single person we passed offered us weed! I was shocked! Not because of the weed, per se, I mean, I was a sorority girl, and let's face it, I DID grow up in California, it was just the fact that in all the times we'd walked down the exact same strip, seen the exact same vendors, we'd neve been offered weed before!
I guess this means we look like we can have more fun WITHOUT parents or a two-year old. Hm. Yes, I suppose you're right, I shouldn't be surprised.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
ATV Adventure
I spent last week in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. 
So anyway, being an all-expenses-paid, in-law attended vacation, we were able to do a few more things than we otherwise might have done. For one thing, we had built in, overly willing babysitters. For another thing, we actually had a little money. And when I say a little money, what I mean is, my in-laws were willing to pay. Oh, don’t give me that look, I never said they were bad people!
On one of our otherwise impossible excursions, we went ATV-ing. (good word, I’m sure Webster will include it next year.) So first off, you get about 15 seconds of “instruction” the majority of which you can’t understand, being as the “instructor” (who, incidentally, introduced himself as Larry) has a ridiculously thick accent, is definitely trying to be funny, and I’m pretty sure is hitting on the females (there were only two of us, it was pretty obvious). Second of all, the 15 seconds of instruction have more to do with the bandana and goggles you have to cover your face with. Plus, the dude has obviously been riding ATVs since he was 6 months old. And I’m not talking about on the back of his Daddy’s ride either. I mean all by his little lonesome. He’s so used to it, he doesn’t even know what he SHOULD be instructing us on anymore. All he cares about is that we’re paying 50 bucks a pop to ride the things for a couple hours.
And then he takes off down the trail, looking back maybe twice on the half hour drive up and
down mountains over rocky terrain to the beach, generally just holding up fingers to let us know what gear to use as we climb the next hill or go over the next cliff.
Personally, I think I did great. I kept up, I didn’t stall going up any hills (my husband did…Ha!), I didn’t freak out while flying over precipice after precipice. I was damn good. The other chick freaked out so bad they left her ATV behind and she had to squeeze in behind the instructor for the remainder of the ride (and believe me when I say the seats aren’t intended for two). So great, I’m proud of myself, I’m awesome.
He gives us an hour of free time. This is the “highlight” of the tour. Basically we have 20 feet of beach to ride on before a “Mexican fence” (ie ragged branches shoved into the sand at distant and inconsistent intervals) separates us from the $2000 fine we’ll be charged for driving on the Federali protected portion of the beach, and a whole lot of cliffs up and down to the 20 feet of beach, and a few ridiculously rocky trails up into the mountains.
So we ride around for a bit, me following my hubby (who was surprisingly cautious, seeing as he’s male and all) and then I’m given the lead. Well, clearly I have to show off a little bit. I’m starting to love the cliffs. The straight down free-falling feeling…it’s exhilarating, what can I say? So I take off in the direction of the biggest ones, and at the last second decide to do one of the smaller ones on the way. It wasn’t a well thought out plan, just an impulse. UP to the top and DOOOOWN…and that’s when I see the Mexican fence two feet in front of me, just before a literal cliff in the SAND. Fuck. I swerve my ATV just as quick as I can (good idea, no?) and instantly feel the beach slide out from under my tires, feel the 398pound vehicle tipping, tipping oh so slowly tipping. So what do I do? Well, duh, I panic. What the hell else would I do? I throw myself off and into the sand.
For one tiny fraction of a second I almost laugh to myself. I’m fine, what a doof, I can’t believe I panicked. And that’s when I feel the hot metal touch my leg. I actually watched in slow motion as a 398lb (I looked it up) machine crushed my leg. Holy crap, that’s a lot of weight. You’d be shocked, you really would. So I take a deep breath, knowing my husband was right behind me, I stay calm, it’ll be off in only a second.
The brilliant man runs over to me, asks if I’m okay. “I have a fucking ATV on top of me, no, I’m not okay. Take it off!” I actually said it in a fairly stable voice, not yelling at all, I was more than a little proud of myself. I even took the moment to tell myself how proud I was. Positive reinforcement, you know.
And then he says, “Oh, hold on a sec.” And I hear him taking off his helmet and goggles, even the bandana over his mouth. Oh yes, this was necessary before he lifted the FOUR HUNDRED FUCKING POUND ATV off of me. Well, I may or may not have lost it then, but you’ll never meet Larry and my husband knows what's good for him, so we won’t get into specifics.
You’ll be glad to know I’m fine. Not even bruised. Did you hear that? NOT EVEN BRUISED!! Come one, you have an ATV fall on top of you, you want to be able to tell someone about it! You want people to see the massive bruise up and down your entire leg and
ask, “My God, what happened?” You want some fricking sympathy!! But no, oh, and I’ve got pictures to prove it, NO, there’s NO bruise. Well, really, there’s a little bit of a bruise, I keep pointing it out to the brilliant husband, trying to incur his sympathy, I can trace the outline, it was a very faint blue at it’s worst, the yellow almost looked worse than the blue, but now it’s gone. That was last Thursday. Less than a week and I couldn’t prove to you that I’d been squashed under 400lbs of machine for the life of me. My mother in law stubbed her toe in April and her entire foot and ankle turned black and blue for weeks. She still has a bit of bruise on the toe. Two months later. A week later and I’ve got nothing. At most I had a faint blue outline. Damn it, that blows. Cause it’s a good story, right?? Imagine the conversations I *could be* having.
I know, it’s a hard life, but someone has to live it. And I’m paid well to do so. Well, okay, not really paid per se, but it was an all expenses paid trip. By my in-laws. And they were there. But *believe it or not* I’m NOT going to complain about that! Well, at least not in this first blog… But no, in all honesty, it was a great trip. Probably thanks to the separate room they got for us. A little reprieve, you know?
So anyway, being an all-expenses-paid, in-law attended vacation, we were able to do a few more things than we otherwise might have done. For one thing, we had built in, overly willing babysitters. For another thing, we actually had a little money. And when I say a little money, what I mean is, my in-laws were willing to pay. Oh, don’t give me that look, I never said they were bad people!On one of our otherwise impossible excursions, we went ATV-ing. (good word, I’m sure Webster will include it next year.) So first off, you get about 15 seconds of “instruction” the majority of which you can’t understand, being as the “instructor” (who, incidentally, introduced himself as Larry) has a ridiculously thick accent, is definitely trying to be funny, and I’m pretty sure is hitting on the females (there were only two of us, it was pretty obvious). Second of all, the 15 seconds of instruction have more to do with the bandana and goggles you have to cover your face with. Plus, the dude has obviously been riding ATVs since he was 6 months old. And I’m not talking about on the back of his Daddy’s ride either. I mean all by his little lonesome. He’s so used to it, he doesn’t even know what he SHOULD be instructing us on anymore. All he cares about is that we’re paying 50 bucks a pop to ride the things for a couple hours.
And then he takes off down the trail, looking back maybe twice on the half hour drive up and
down mountains over rocky terrain to the beach, generally just holding up fingers to let us know what gear to use as we climb the next hill or go over the next cliff.Personally, I think I did great. I kept up, I didn’t stall going up any hills (my husband did…Ha!), I didn’t freak out while flying over precipice after precipice. I was damn good. The other chick freaked out so bad they left her ATV behind and she had to squeeze in behind the instructor for the remainder of the ride (and believe me when I say the seats aren’t intended for two). So great, I’m proud of myself, I’m awesome.
He gives us an hour of free time. This is the “highlight” of the tour. Basically we have 20 feet of beach to ride on before a “Mexican fence” (ie ragged branches shoved into the sand at distant and inconsistent intervals) separates us from the $2000 fine we’ll be charged for driving on the Federali protected portion of the beach, and a whole lot of cliffs up and down to the 20 feet of beach, and a few ridiculously rocky trails up into the mountains.
So we ride around for a bit, me following my hubby (who was surprisingly cautious, seeing as he’s male and all) and then I’m given the lead. Well, clearly I have to show off a little bit. I’m starting to love the cliffs. The straight down free-falling feeling…it’s exhilarating, what can I say? So I take off in the direction of the biggest ones, and at the last second decide to do one of the smaller ones on the way. It wasn’t a well thought out plan, just an impulse. UP to the top and DOOOOWN…and that’s when I see the Mexican fence two feet in front of me, just before a literal cliff in the SAND. Fuck. I swerve my ATV just as quick as I can (good idea, no?) and instantly feel the beach slide out from under my tires, feel the 398pound vehicle tipping, tipping oh so slowly tipping. So what do I do? Well, duh, I panic. What the hell else would I do? I throw myself off and into the sand.
For one tiny fraction of a second I almost laugh to myself. I’m fine, what a doof, I can’t believe I panicked. And that’s when I feel the hot metal touch my leg. I actually watched in slow motion as a 398lb (I looked it up) machine crushed my leg. Holy crap, that’s a lot of weight. You’d be shocked, you really would. So I take a deep breath, knowing my husband was right behind me, I stay calm, it’ll be off in only a second.
The brilliant man runs over to me, asks if I’m okay. “I have a fucking ATV on top of me, no, I’m not okay. Take it off!” I actually said it in a fairly stable voice, not yelling at all, I was more than a little proud of myself. I even took the moment to tell myself how proud I was. Positive reinforcement, you know.
And then he says, “Oh, hold on a sec.” And I hear him taking off his helmet and goggles, even the bandana over his mouth. Oh yes, this was necessary before he lifted the FOUR HUNDRED FUCKING POUND ATV off of me. Well, I may or may not have lost it then, but you’ll never meet Larry and my husband knows what's good for him, so we won’t get into specifics.
You’ll be glad to know I’m fine. Not even bruised. Did you hear that? NOT EVEN BRUISED!! Come one, you have an ATV fall on top of you, you want to be able to tell someone about it! You want people to see the massive bruise up and down your entire leg and
ask, “My God, what happened?” You want some fricking sympathy!! But no, oh, and I’ve got pictures to prove it, NO, there’s NO bruise. Well, really, there’s a little bit of a bruise, I keep pointing it out to the brilliant husband, trying to incur his sympathy, I can trace the outline, it was a very faint blue at it’s worst, the yellow almost looked worse than the blue, but now it’s gone. That was last Thursday. Less than a week and I couldn’t prove to you that I’d been squashed under 400lbs of machine for the life of me. My mother in law stubbed her toe in April and her entire foot and ankle turned black and blue for weeks. She still has a bit of bruise on the toe. Two months later. A week later and I’ve got nothing. At most I had a faint blue outline. Damn it, that blows. Cause it’s a good story, right?? Imagine the conversations I *could be* having. Monday, June 1, 2009
Addict
http://www.cnn.com/2009/HEALTH/04/23/ep.facebook.addict/index.html
I have to defend my dear friend Facebook. It's not that I don't believe Facebook Addiction exists because, well, I may be an addict, but I'm not in denial. I mean, I checked my Facebook account for the 75th time (at work, of course) today, and was actually UPSET that nothing had changed. Oh, it exists. It's just this crazy psychologist chick is just wrong. She clearly has no Facebook friends. She's clearly jealous of my 209 (and counting) friends.
She thinks it's because it's not reality? Because we don't get the bad with the good? Because we don't get morning breath? Well, here's reality for you -I cover my husband's head with a pillow every morning so I don't have to smell the morning breath. I can avoid that shit in "real life" if I want to, just the same as I could on Facebook. But here's the thing, I don't. No one does. Except maybe this jealous psycologist chick.
I learned about my friends divorce on Facebook. I helped someone through what may have been a suicide threat on Facebook. From 2000 miles away. I was told about the death of a friends' child on Facebook. I've comforted countless friends through countless break-ups, on Facebook. I've virtually hugged friends who were just having a bad day and I've virtually supported friends through layoffs and short sales and just tough times. Support I gaurantee you they otherwise wouldn't be getting (I mean, come on, I've got two year old; I'm lucky if I get a shower, much less a chance to talk on the phone to an old friend, certainly never to visit them!!)
And let's talk about this "if you're avoiding work by checking Facebook" crap. COME ON. How many of you are avoiding work by getting coffee, gossiping, checking your e-mail, checking this fricking blog? It's just one of the MANY procrastination techniques. Half of us would be reading a book or watching a TV show if we could get away with it. But that's just the point - we can get away with Facebook! Now I'm not saying the crazy chick who was avoiding her kids doesn't need help, she clearly does, but as for the rest of us...just join up Jealous Psychologist lady, find some old friends, and get over yourself.
I have to defend my dear friend Facebook. It's not that I don't believe Facebook Addiction exists because, well, I may be an addict, but I'm not in denial. I mean, I checked my Facebook account for the 75th time (at work, of course) today, and was actually UPSET that nothing had changed. Oh, it exists. It's just this crazy psychologist chick is just wrong. She clearly has no Facebook friends. She's clearly jealous of my 209 (and counting) friends.
She thinks it's because it's not reality? Because we don't get the bad with the good? Because we don't get morning breath? Well, here's reality for you -I cover my husband's head with a pillow every morning so I don't have to smell the morning breath. I can avoid that shit in "real life" if I want to, just the same as I could on Facebook. But here's the thing, I don't. No one does. Except maybe this jealous psycologist chick.
I learned about my friends divorce on Facebook. I helped someone through what may have been a suicide threat on Facebook. From 2000 miles away. I was told about the death of a friends' child on Facebook. I've comforted countless friends through countless break-ups, on Facebook. I've virtually hugged friends who were just having a bad day and I've virtually supported friends through layoffs and short sales and just tough times. Support I gaurantee you they otherwise wouldn't be getting (I mean, come on, I've got two year old; I'm lucky if I get a shower, much less a chance to talk on the phone to an old friend, certainly never to visit them!!)
And let's talk about this "if you're avoiding work by checking Facebook" crap. COME ON. How many of you are avoiding work by getting coffee, gossiping, checking your e-mail, checking this fricking blog? It's just one of the MANY procrastination techniques. Half of us would be reading a book or watching a TV show if we could get away with it. But that's just the point - we can get away with Facebook! Now I'm not saying the crazy chick who was avoiding her kids doesn't need help, she clearly does, but as for the rest of us...just join up Jealous Psychologist lady, find some old friends, and get over yourself.
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