tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38463319610148040732024-03-13T12:02:10.481-07:00The Fearless ScribePop Culture references served with a side of sarcasm.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.comBlogger439125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-31263547406654880582015-10-28T18:14:00.002-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.336-07:00No matter how many times they ask, No! I DO NOT want to continueI was logged into the Google Docs calendar site at work and I saw this weird eye-with long lashes looking icon on the toolbar. So, naturally, I clicked on it. This was for the "Word of the Day" which turned out to be 'Taphephobia', the fear of being buried alive. Morbid. And also very <i>Kill Bill</i>-ish.<br />
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Then a small window appeared that said, "This page has an unspecified potential security risk. Would you like to continue?" So I selected No. The window re-popped open. I hit No, again. Same thing. Then I thought, what the hell and clicked Yes. Still, the same little window re-opened. I tried to "X" out of the entire Google site. Nope. A ping noise and the same stupid little window. It was clearly mocking me with its threat of a potential security risk and incessant continuation question.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No! No, I don't want to continue!</td></tr>
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And now I'm starting to panic like, <i>This window is never going to close and will stay open forever because I had to be a Techie-Pandora and click on that damn icon! </i>I started to develop Compu-open-windowaphobia - the fear of computer windows that won't close. (I made that word up. Just thought I'd let you know so you don't get stuck in some security risk website while looking it up.)<br />
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I began to click "No" "Yes" and "Esc" again and again because, when in doubt just press buttons. And <i>finally </i>that annoying window closed. Whew! Big sigh of relief. Then I swore to NEVER click on strange tabs again no matter how curious I am or how interesting they look.<br />
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That lasted about 5 minutes until I decided that this would be a funny story to share and I couldn't remember the word of the day except that it started with a "ta" and so I had to click the icon again And the whole window-not-going-away and me clicking "No" a hundred times happened all over again.<br />
<br />Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-87047614235352939502015-10-21T07:00:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.966-07:00The future is todayGreat Scott! It's been 30 years since we first went back in time with Marty and the Doc in a DeLorean. But more importantly, today, October 21, 2015, marks the exact day that Marty traveled into the future. Back then the year 2015 seemed so far away. It was also easy to believe there would be flying cars, hover boards, and the Cubs in the World Series. However, the sad reality is that cars don't fly, skateboards don't hover and the Cubs, well, I'm a Mets fan so....<br />
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This past summer I got to see the DeLorean and other assorted Back To The Future items when one of our local libraries had them on display. Being such huge fans of the movie, naturally we had to go. (The "we" in this refers mainly to me and my kid. Bill is a fan but not nearly as ridiculously obsessive as we are. And by ridiculously obsessive I mean we quote from it often and watch it whenever it's on TV, even though I own all three of the movies.)<br />
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Sadly, they wouldn't even let me sit in it to pose for a pic. With all the buttons and dials in that time machine Bill might say that it's for the best, especially considering my penchant for pushing every button until I find the one that works. With my luck, if I were Marty, the DeLorean would stall. Then I'd do the obligatory banging of my fist against the flux capacitor, turning the key in the ignition 57 times and pressing all buttons. This would probably lead to me ending up in some other dimension. Or, quite possibly destroying the space-time continuum.<br />
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It's weird to think that after today, Back To The Future II will technically be taking place in the past. Marty and the Doc will be traveling into their future, which would now be our past. I know, this is heavy.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-79162220752383408892015-10-12T18:41:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.820-07:00What was said vs. What I heardOverhearing other people's conversations is sometimes inevitable. It's not that I <i>want </i>to hear what people are saying but when I do, well, it's like a game of telephone gone bad. Shit gets lost in translation. <br />
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For example, I walked into a convo-in-progress in the break room at work.<br />
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<b>What was said</b>: "I heard he had surgery."<br />
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<b>What I heard</b>: " I heard he has herpes."<br />
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My bugged out eyes and subsequent giggling led me to reveal what I "thought" was said. Everyone was hysterical despite my inappropriate, if not downright questionable, sense of hearing.<br />
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Then, another time at work...<br />
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<b>What was said</b>: "Do you like nuts?"<br />
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<b>What I heard</b>: "Are you like, nuts?"<br />
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This interpretation also brought the house down. And then the entire conversation took a sharp turn right into the gutter. Thankfully, I had nothing to do with that. After all I have a hard enough time deciphering what's being said without adding my own dirty two cents. Now, if only people would speak more clearly when I'm around, but then, where's the fun in that?Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-338005476087776182015-10-02T07:00:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.373-07:00A lesson in kindnessOne day last weekend I took my son to McDonald's for dinner. I'd like to say it was a rare treat but let's be honest here. In his defense he wanted Subway, which might be a bit healthier, but I wasn't feeling it so McD's it was. Sometimes I wonder just who is the parent and who's the child? But that's not what this post is about.<br />
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Even though I shared a meal with my kid that would make all health nuts cringe and most moms look at me with disapproval, I was also able to share a lesson in kindness. I'm thinking the importance of that makes up for my poor food choices.<br />
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The counter-person who took our order greeted us with a smile, repeated our order for accuracy and collected our food all with a wonderful attitude. She seemed to have pride in her work and it showed.<br />
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We ate in the restaurant and all through the meal I kept hearing her as she served each patron with the same great attitude she gave us.<br />
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I decided that since we were already fairly deep in the unhealthy rabbit hole, why not just go all the way, and so I went back and ordered us chocolate chip cookies. While at the counter I told the server what a great job she was doing. She grabbed her manager and I repeated my praise of her service. They both thanked me and then I was asked to mention this on the survey they advertise on their receipts. <br />
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On the way home, my son said, "You did a nice thing, Mom." I replied, "It's kindness and the world needs more of it." Those of you who have read my blog before know that I like to praise and recognize people for giving outstanding service. <br />
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I'd like to think that if she was having a bad day I made it a little better. Or, if the rest of her day hit a few bumps after I left that she can think back on my words and smile. We don't know her story. Maybe she's a struggling single mom. Maybe she's a student putting herself through school. Either way she's working in an industry where the employees have a bad rep. and she's doing a kick-ass job.<br />
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Later that evening I filled out the online survey and sang high praises of the counter-person. I only hope that my words were passed on to the appropriate people and maybe she benefited with some sort of bonus or incentive. <i>Wink wink, nudge nudge McDonald's peeps. </i><br />
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<br />Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-59328461285629867742015-09-23T07:00:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.560-07:00Where do you see yourself in five years?I was watching some show and one of the characters went on a job interview and this question was asked. That got me thinking of the many times I was asked this same question during an interview.<br />
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Of course I always gave the standard professional blah blah answer. But in my head the answer was far more entertaining. Or snarky, depending on how you look at it.<br />
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Where do I see myself in five years?<br />
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I "see" myself retired, wealthy and lying on a beach somewhere with my toes in the sand and a cold drink in my hand. Preferably looking fabulous in my bathing suit as well.<br />
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The reality is I see myself doing pretty much what I am now only hopefully making more money and of course, looking fabulous in my clothes.<br />
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Quite frankly I think this is a bullshit question. And I know it's designed to give the Interviewer a look at a candidate's professional longevity, their personality or weirdness (as would be the case with me) but seriously who cares? For all we know the Earth could be overtaken by machines in an electrical/robot revolution in five years. Hopefully the robot overlords would give me a job designation on a beach.<br />
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I wonder what any of those Interviewers would have said if I had given these as my answers. Who knows, I might have gotten the job. Or at the very least a chuckle. Or my very own padded cell. With crayons.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-19856257990805364252015-09-17T07:00:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.262-07:00Spaghettios by any other brand is not the same when you sing the jingleThe other night my kid wanted Spaghettios for dinner. Don't judge. In my defense, he's a picky eater so I'll happily make whatever he wants so long as he eats it. Anyway, while dumping it into the pot I noticed the label. Campbell's completely did away with the Franco-American name its cans. When did this happen and why the hell wasn't I told?<br />
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Now I can't sing the song. Remember the cute little jingle that kids sang during the commercial?<br />
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The jingle how I remember it:<br />
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<i>The neat round spaghetti you can eat with a spoon </i><br />
<i>Uh-oh Spaghettios</i><br />
<i>Franco-American</i><br />
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The jingle now that they changed the name:<br />
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<i>The neat round spaghetti you can eat with a spoon</i><br />
<i>Uh oh Spaghettios</i><br />
Campbells<br />
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It just falls flat. Which is why I didn't put "Campbells " in italics in the song. What the hell people?! Way to kill a childhood memory!<br />
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<br />Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-71006904086959901042015-09-11T07:00:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.710-07:00Something to think on for this day<br />
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An inspirational quote in honor of the anniversary of 9/11.<br />
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<br />Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-11807703681698454402015-08-26T08:00:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.225-07:00The toughest job I ever hadTwelve years ago I took on a job that I was not fully qualified for and had no idea just how hard it would be.<br />
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The hours are long. There are no weekends or holidays off. I am on-call 24/7 even though my attendance isn't constantly in demand these days. It doesn't matter if I'm sick or tired, I still have to be there.<br />
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My job duties vary from cook to housekeeper to social activities director. I may be called on to act as chauffeur or counselor at any given time. I'm also a cheerleader and homework taskmaster.<br />
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Throughout it all I have learned much in my role. I know what RPG stands for and that Kraft makes the best mac 'n cheese. I continue to learn new things each day and with every passing year.<br />
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Knowing all of this you might be thinking, <i>why did I apply</i>?<br />
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Because the perks are amazing. I get unlimited hugs and kisses. I laugh a lot. I get to (sort of) experience a second childhood. And I am loved.<br />
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My official job title is "Mom" and this is the most important thing I've ever done in my life.<br />
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So, with that I'd like to wish my "employer", Christopher, a very <b><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: large;">Happy Birthday</span><span style="font-size: large;">!</span></span></b><br />
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PS: In case you wanted to know, RPG stands for Rocket Propelled Grenade. I know this from listening to him go on about his "Halo" and "Call of Duty" video games. I may not understand what he's talking about half the time but I do listen and retain certain bits of info. Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-62114551148490866232015-08-12T18:20:00.001-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.636-07:00Take a left on Wicked WayLast weekend we took a quick drive through this affluent community nearby. When I say affluent I'm talking - gated community with armed guards and your name has to be on the list to gain entry. Luckily Bill's co-worker lives there and put our name on "the list".<br />
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Anyway, it's a very large, very pretty and nicely maintained neighborhood. I wouldn't mind living there if I had a bajillion dollars. The only curious thing was the street names. There was no Main Street. No Third Ave. But there was Putting Green Drive. Granted, the area has a huge golf course, but still. There was also Ruff Skies Road and Dog Leg Street. Yeah, I'm not making this up.<br />
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Naturally I made fun of them all. Then I saw this:<br />
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Now there's a street I can live on. Of course, I had to take a picture and I'm sure the guy who was across the street puttering around in his garage thought I was probably casing the area in order to pull off a job. I guess that would be one way to afford to live there.<br />
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Too bad they had to add the wedge in there. Wicked Way would have been way cool. Also, notice the adjoining street name? "Even Par Drive". See what I
mean? The developers are either huge golf fans or just non-creative.<br />
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Down the road from where I live now is a small community with street names like Van Halen Lane and Fogarty Drive and a few others so those developers must have been a bunch of cool rock 'n rollers. <br />
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Anyone else see unusual street names?Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-60995298075845733952015-08-03T22:06:00.001-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.598-07:00Book hangoverI'm hungover.<br />
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No, I didn't go out drinking into the wee hours only to wake up in a closet with my shirt on backwards.<br />
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What I have is a book hangover. I haven't had one of those in a long ass time. What is a book hangover, you ask? It's where you just finished reading a book and you can't get past it being over because you fell for the characters (especially the bad boy biker who <strike>you </strike>I fell in lust with) not to mention the exciting plot. <br />
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I've been catching up on some reading this summer with some quick, easy-to-read, trashy novels. Really enjoyed them, too. I'm also in the middle of a thrilling, detective book, which I put down to devour the book I can't get over. I literally bought my latest addictive book this past Friday night. Started it before bed and finished it Monday morning. Had I not been socially responsible and gone out to do some fun things with the family (not to mention take time to eat and sleep) I probably would have finished it on Saturday. Even while reading it I began to mourn the fact that it was going to end and I tried to slow down and savor the book but I couldn't help it and I drank that bitch down like the last beer at closing time.<br />
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Now I don't know what to do with myself. I have the urge to go re-read it and I never read a book twice because life's too short. I may go back to read through the dirty parts because yeah, I am that kinda girl.<br />
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So, what's this book that has me all funked up? It's called <span style="color: red;"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/motorcycle-man-kristen-ashley/1111504254?ean=9781455599240" target="_blank"><i>Motorcycle Man</i> </a></span>and it's the last in the Dream Man book series written by Kristen Ashley. Now normally if I like a book in a series I get 'em all and devour them like the Bookasaurus I am but in this case I liked these characters so much and because they won't be the central focus in the other books I don't wanna know 'em. Maybe, hopefully I'll come around.<br />
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Anyway, if you like trashy romances between sexy, badass bikers and fearless, headstrong women then I urge you to get in your car, on your motorcycle or on your broom to the nearest bookstore. But be forewarned that the language is graphic and the sex scenes are smoldering so if that ain't your thing, you should pass. I, on the other hand, am not easily offended, in fact, I appreciate real dialogue and happenings so this seriously appealed to me.<br />
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Oh and to point out the obvious, which I think I stated a time or 10 before, I'm easily influenced by a hot cover and the sexy smirk on the face which graced the cover of this book I bought is evidence of that.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, yes I will climb on the back of your Harley.</td></tr>
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<br />Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-91287480547568526262015-07-28T15:25:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:51.039-07:00Summer doingsI apologize for my lack of posting recently. Not that I've always been such a stellar blogger but I've been even more of a slacker and the reason is we've been busy enjoying the summer.<br />
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We spent a few days in Laughlin, Nevada which was nice. While there, we took a riverboat cruise so I got to cross that off my bucket list. Yahoo! <br />
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Apparently camping or RV-ing is a big thing there because each hotel had a section for RVs. This of course prompted us to quote Cousin Eddie from Christmas Vacation. "<i>That there Clark, is an RV</i>."<br />
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On our way out of Laughlin we stopped at a newer hotel/casino built by Indians. It was pretty and way out in the middle of nowhere, which can be cool if you're one to totally get away from it all, or if you're on the lam. Anyway, we passed some farmland and bales of hay prompting Bill to yell "Hay! (Hey)." Hilarious, I know, but it amused our kid. Okay, it amused me, too. I wanted to get out and take a picture of one of the bales but thought it would look weird or arouse suspicion from the guys nearby in the big farm machinery thing they were driving especially if the crops they were tending were non-legalized marijuana. <i>Don't worry, guys, I'm from NJ; I didn't see nothin'</i>. <br />
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I've still got some other pics to upload for future posts and I need to sort my thoughts out so I can write more coherently (yeah, right). In the meantime, hope you are enjoying your summer! <br />
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Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-64533208409789408142015-07-22T11:19:00.001-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.673-07:00Follow the Exit signs, if you can find themWe were swimming at a local hotel this past Sunday. It was a beautiful day and the water in the pool was perfect but that's not what this post is about.<br />
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As we were leaving the room my brother had stayed in for the weekend (a mini staycation of sorts) and walking down the hall to the elevator I saw some exit signs. Nothing unusual, right? Well, these were on their sides and on the bottom of the wall.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3cGZOD-fJn4/Va_cm6t3F8I/AAAAAAAABUI/NL6v531De5I/s1600/Hotel%2BExit%2Bsign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3cGZOD-fJn4/Va_cm6t3F8I/AAAAAAAABUI/NL6v531De5I/s400/Hotel%2BExit%2Bsign.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Way to go Exit Sign installer.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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This struck me as both weird and curious. <i>What the hell with these Exit signs,</i> I thought out loud. Then Bill said, <i>It's so the drunk people when they fall down on the floor, they can find the exits easier</i>. Hmm, seems logical. And considerate, too. Nicely done, Hotel.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-80081300983082353212015-07-18T22:41:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.857-07:00The last. . . A list of stuff I didI thought I would share a little about myself in the context of the last <i>whatever</i><whatever> I did. I'm sure this will only serve to further indicate how cool/boring/unstable I am. I mean, seriously any of these descriptions apply. So here's a peek at some of the things I've enjoyed recently.</whatever><br />
<br />
<b>The Last. . .</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Movie I saw</b><br />
In theaters - <i>The Avengers - Age of Ultron</i><br />
At home - <i>The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Book I read</b><br />
<i>A Tale of Two Vampires</i> by Katie Macalister. I've been wanting to read her books for a long time now and I finally picked this one up last weekend at the library. Also, the hot guy on the cover might have influenced my decision. <br />
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<br />
<br />
<b>Website I was on</b><br />
Pinterest to see what people are reading, then Barnes & Noble to look up information about the books I saw on Pinterest and followed by a stop at the Las Vegas library site to see if any of the books were available. I'm not usually this detailed about my reading. It was a slow night here because of bad weather. Perhaps I'll just ogle book covers and base my decision on that. Hey, it worked last time. <br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Item I bought</b><br />
Ibuprofen PM. Helps me to fall asleep at
night so I'm not up at all hours making stupid lists in my head. Not
entirely unlike this one.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Person I called/texted</b><br />
Bill. It started out with simple texts and moved on to a phone call when clarification and lengthy explanations were needed. Between his auto-correct mishaps and my finger stuttering our texts sometimes resemble a secret language. <br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Thing I ate</b><br />
A
bomb-pop and doritos. Not at the same time because yuck! Plus the
dorito crumbs might get stuck on my bomb-pop when I licked it and it just sounds very unnecessarily messy. Also, no one wants to waste a perfectly good ice pop. Or doritos.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Thing I googled</b><br />
The word lustig, which incidentally has nothing to do with lust. It's German for humorous, funny; and I only looked it up because it was used to describe a friend of mine on Facebook and no one knew what it meant. <br />
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<br />
So, what was the last <whatever> <i>whatever</i> you did?<br /></whatever>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-24119394802536957992015-07-16T11:39:00.001-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.299-07:00The book that smelled like catOn my last visit to the library I was by myself which means there was more time for me to browse the shelves . I came away with 3 books to read. And some dvds for the guys (and me) to watch.<br />
<br />
Anyway, when I came home I put the two paperbacks on my nightstand and the hardcover on the floor next to my nightstand. Then I started to smell cat. Not an actual cat but cat-like products, like food. I sniffed all around my room. I couldn't place it. I checked the one paperback. Nothing. Then I picked up the one hardcover book and sniffed. There it was! The source of the smell. Whoever took this book out last must have had a cat. Or, maybe a cat read the book? They are allegedly very smart creatures.<br />
<br />
Of course, all the while, Bill thought I was crazy. I gave him the book, and he reluctantly took a whiff and told me it smells like some kind of perfume. <i>Yeah, cat cologne, Bill</i>!<br />
<br />
Just in case anyone was wondering, I have nothing against cats. I have a sensitive nose, though. And to me the scent reminds me of cat. Also, I am not crazy. Not entirely, at least. I have not yet read the the odorous book which I have affectionately dubbed, The Cat Book.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-9259845009332800062015-07-14T17:01:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:51.076-07:00I've never been to Paris but my hair feels like it has. Sort of.I love getting packages in the mail. I even do a little happy dance, much to my son's eye-rolling and head-shaking dismay. A few weeks ago I received a box of samples of the L'oreal Paris Ultimate Straight haircare, which included shampoo, pre-conditioner, conditioner and balm.<br />
<br />
I don't usually put that much effort into my hair and I don't use a lot of product but I thought I would give this a try. Living out here in the desert can take its toll on my hair, especially in the brutal heat of summer. Between the sun, the dry heat and the chlorine in the pools (Gotta keep cool!) my hair can get dry and icky.<br />
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<br />
<br />
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The first thing I noticed when I tried these L'oreal products is that they smell amazing. I'm not talking some Yankee Candle fragrance, just this clean, pleasant aroma. The shampoo lathers really well. I just use a little in the palm of my hand. The conditioner and pre-conditioner come out like bottled silk. Also, they don't leave behind any sticky residue like some conditioners. The balm helps lock in the straightening and works similar to a mousse. <br />
<br />
Basically you just shampoo, and rinse, then pre-condition and condition and rinse. Apply the balm to towel dried hair and then use a hair dryer. It's that simple. And I do love simple, uncomplicated things. <br />
<br />
After using the L'oreal haircare system my hair is shinier and healthier and makes me want to toss my head and whip my tresses in a Gee-your-hair-smells-terrific kind of way. My hair is already straight but more on the unruly side and that's where the straightening part helps. These products give me that sleek straightness without feeling weighted down and cruddy from too much hair goop. <br />
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<i>Disclosure:<b> </b>These products were received complimentary of Influenster for testing purposes. All opinions are my own.</i>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-11011254648764256022015-07-09T08:00:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.153-07:00Love that stormy weatherThere's been quite a few thunderstorms around here lately. This makes me so happy and also somewhat of an oddity because it seems most people don't like or, fear lightning. I find those people weird but that's me.<br />
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Sadly though these storms don't last long and are a bit weak by New Jersey standards. I'm used to lightning that lights up a dark room like a disco globe and thunder that literally shakes the house. However, the scenery here is better. Watching lightning bolts and flashes with the mountain as a backdrop is beautiful and awe-inspiring. <br />
<br />
Anyway, I don't mind the rain so long as there's thunder and
lightning. I mean, if I'm going to get wet then I want to at least be
entertained.<br />
<br />Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-57783259344631007892015-07-06T08:00:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.521-07:00My fictional character role modelsAt dinner the other day we were discussing the differences between when Bill and I were kids and our kid today. Christopher's eyes nearly popped out of his head when we told him we would play outside all day during the summer because there was no computers. <br />
<br />
I remember days spent riding my bike, roller skating and playing ball. The neighborhood kids and I pretended to be secret agents, super heroes, and whatever else our imaginations could dream up.<br />
<br />
Later that night I got to thinking about my fictional character role models and I decided to what else... make a list! Because that's what you do when you have trouble falling asleep.<br />
<br />
So here is who I wanted to be when I was a little scribe:<br />
<br />
<br />
A Pink Lady - <i>Grease </i>was my favorite movie when I was a kid and who was cooler than the Pink Ladies?<br />
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One of <i>Charlie's Angels</i> - Work for a mystery man, catch the bad guys and look gorgeous while doing so? Hell, yeah!<br />
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Lois Lane - I kind of succeeded in this when I was a reporter, although my assignments were sometimes boring and Superman didn't come to my rescue on the few that were borderline dangerous.<br />
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Wonder Woman - Mainly just because I wanted to fly an invisible jet.<br />
<br />
The Fonz from <i>Happy Days</i>- Yes, he's a guy but I really wanted to bang my fist on the jukebox
and have it play music. And to wear a leather jacket. I think this is where my love of
leather came into play.<br />
<br />
As I got older my role models changed and included more literary types. These days I still admire strong, edgy females like Black Widow from The Avengers (and not just because of her super-cool leather outfit or because she gets to fight alongside cuties like Thor). I also want to be like the ladies from <i>Sex & The City</i>, or Lucky Santangelo from Jackie Collins' book series, or even Holly Golightly from <i>Breakfast at Tiffany's</i>. The list is long and changes based on my mood, and what I've read, watched, or eaten.<br />
<br />
So who did you want to be when you were younger? Who do you want to be now?<br />
<br />Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-801443071171222422015-07-03T08:00:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.893-07:00He didn't do it to be cool but cool just comes naturally to himI really like those commercials for the Lincoln MKC with Matthew McConaughey. Whoever came up with the idea to feature him in their car ads should get a raise and free cookies for life. Seriously.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-luliJAjwHos/VZNNDFzrgcI/AAAAAAAABS4/Oe8GDVAj0OU/s1600/MatthewMcConaghey_LincolnMKC14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-luliJAjwHos/VZNNDFzrgcI/AAAAAAAABS4/Oe8GDVAj0OU/s400/MatthewMcConaghey_LincolnMKC14.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Not only is he so damn handsome but he has an amazing voice. I mean I could listen to him read the phone book. If I knew nothing about this car (and if I hadn't just bought a newer one) I would go out and buy a Lincoln just because of these ads. If that's the marketing company's plan then I say, good one.<br />
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I think he makes a great spokesperson for just about anything and not just because he's super-cool. You know how some people are just born salesmen? Well Matthew McConaughey could sell anything with that voice. It mesmerizes.<br />
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Imagine a frozen tundra with snow and ice all around. He walks up to the natives and says in that laid-back, cool way, <i>Alright, alright alright. I know you got a lot of snow around but I think you could use some more</i>. And just like that they buy more snow. Because he said so.<br />
<br />
Now if the Lincoln Motor Company could fix it so that McConaughey comes with the car, I would convince Bill that we need to buy an MKC. Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-84105617079840431722015-07-01T08:00:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.929-07:00Not another Vacation movieOh Hollywood. Is there so little material out there that we have to re-visit movies that were a hit and still remain a fan favorite today? For example<i>, Vacation</i>. This movie and its sequels were great and made The Griswolds a household name.<br />
<br />
And now there is another Vacation movie? I do not agree with this, movie makers. At all. In fact...<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mpScaiMLN10/VZLx3t-IRqI/AAAAAAAABSk/UKb7GTk27b0/s1600/Beldar%2BConehead%2Bunacceptable.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mpScaiMLN10/VZLx3t-IRqI/AAAAAAAABSk/UKb7GTk27b0/s320/Beldar%2BConehead%2Bunacceptable.jpg" width="236" /></a></div>
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Then I did some checking and come to find out this isn't a re-make of the original but a sequel with Rusty attempting to take his family to Wally World just like his father did in the first film.<br />
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And now I feel much better. And I might actually go see this movie. Also, I'm keeping the Beldar Conehead meme for those times when something is unacceptable. <br />
<br />Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-88365152135061691372015-06-29T08:00:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:51.002-07:00Press where for Debit?<br />
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Helpful or, insulting?<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5AmgYQTBXg4/VY9KfBfRgGI/AAAAAAAABSE/4HJfuKEK46g/s1600/Press%2Bhere%2Bfor%2Bdebit%2BSign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5AmgYQTBXg4/VY9KfBfRgGI/AAAAAAAABSE/4HJfuKEK46g/s400/Press%2Bhere%2Bfor%2Bdebit%2BSign.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just in case you're not clear on what to do here.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I saw this at a local gas station the other day. As I stood there pumping my gas I started thinking, <i>How oblivious or inattentive have we become that we need such blatantly obvious signs pointing to things? </i>I'm far from the smartest person but come on, <i>really</i>?<br />
<br />
Unless you've been living in a cave for the last decade or two you should know how certain things work. I have been pumping my own gas out here for over six years now. I get this. You follow the prompts on the screen that is attached to the pump site. Then you slip your credit/debit card into the slot marked as such or you go pay inside. It's not that complicated. If you can't handle these simple instructions, maybe you shouldn't be driving a car?<br />
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I could have been a total creep and peeled the sticker off and placed it somewhere else just to mess with people. But, I thought better of it and decided to be nice and leave the Captain Obvious sticker for those clueless debit-paying folks.<br />
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<br />Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-40065958822496619772015-06-27T08:00:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.447-07:00The diabetes Jedi and four years of Type 1Four years ago today life threw one hell of a curve ball our way when my son was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. No one in our family expected this. It was like that scene in <i>The Empire Strikes Back</i> when we all found out that Darth Vader was Luke's father and everyone went <i>Whaaaaaaat</i>??<br />
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Anyway, in the diabetic community many Type 1's celebrate the day they were diagnosed like they would any other anniversary. It's called a dia-versary. We have never made a really big deal about his disease because I want Chris' life to be as normal as possible. But I thought I would remember this day by dedicating a post to it. <br />
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Four years. It's not that long, really. But it feels like more when you consider how much of his life and our life revolves around diabetes. That's 1,460 days of daily insulin injections, testing blood glucose levels, counting carb amounts, and doing math calculations with added injections, bg testing and carbs for those high or low sugars, and possible ketone testing if his sugar is too high. Then there's the constant worry on my end. And the physical, mental, and emotional toll this illness takes on his body.<br />
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If I had to use one word to describe diabetes I would say '<i>exhausting</i>'. It requires constant maintenance. It is never-ending. There is no break, no relief. Everything that my pancreas does naturally without me thinking about it is what Chris has to manually do for himself. I could have pizza and a Sprite while watching a marathon of the original Star Wars trilogy in my bathrobe and not think anything of it. My son can do the same thing, except he would have to pause the movie to test his sugar levels and give himself an insulin injection before he eats. Unless he was low in which case he would eat and drink to bring his levels up and then re-test and dose accordingly because pizza is considered a slow-acting carb which can cause his sugar to spike as the night goes on. Once all that was taken care of he could go back to enjoying the movie. Of course, he could bring his supplies to the couch and do his diabetic maintenance routine without interruption. My point is that unlike me, he can't just eat and watch Han Solo get frozen in carbonite. He has to be mindful of his body because his pancreas doesn't work.<br />
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Yes, this disease can be as burdensome as a non-stop chattering C3PO but some good has come out of it. My son has become more responsible for his age. He knows what needs to be done to maintain his health and he takes it as seriously as a young Padawan training to become a Jedi. I'm proud everyday of his mature attitude.<br />
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Also, he takes opportunities to educate people about diabetes. He used to be a bit reluctant to discuss it but now if someone asks him about his pump he doesn't mind talking about it. And during certain school assignments, when it was warranted, he made mention of his disease, which his teachers respected. <br />
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Sometimes there are battles. Like when he doesn't want to test <i>again</i>. Or the insulin injection hurt. Or when he's cranky because his sugar level is high. I understand all of these and I accept them because they are the Dark Side of this crappy illness. And because they don't occur every day. For the most part Chris handles his diabetes with dignity and grace. A lots of use of <i>The Force</i>.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-71944197049268700992015-06-24T08:00:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.746-07:00My battle scarWe had pizza a few days ago. It wasn't delivery, it was DiGiorno. Not that it matters or that it's relative to this post. Anyway, while getting one of the pies out of the oven my arm accidentally touched one of the racks and I got this burn. Incidentally I was wearing oven mitts. Maybe I need to invest in arm-length oven mitts to prevent this from happening in the future. They could be like those long, silky ones that women wore long ago when they went out for the evening. Do such things even exist? I'll have to look into it.<br />
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So even though I immediately put some ice on the burn it still got all icky. Billy put some neosporin and gauze on it because he felt bad for me. It really hurt for a while. Then he said I would probably have a scar from it. I said, <i>Cool! Chicks dig scars. Oh wait, I am a chick</i>. Then my son shook his head at me while saying, <i>No Mom, no</i>.<br />
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Here's what it looks like now:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KJnOAJb7Aj0/VYo2wmUInmI/AAAAAAAABRQ/UMeDPM3HQwM/s1600/burn%2Bscar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KJnOAJb7Aj0/VYo2wmUInmI/AAAAAAAABRQ/UMeDPM3HQwM/s400/burn%2Bscar.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scar from battling a distant relative of Smaug.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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It was a lot worse, all burnt up skin and bubbling but I didn't want people getting all <i>blech </i>and possibly puking so I waited to post a picture. I'm always thinking of you guys. <br />
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When people see the burn mark and ask me what happened I tell them I was in an epic battle with a dragon and I got this burn. I told Billy this version and he said, <i>Must have been a small dragon</i>. He's so hilarious. My mom on the other hand just rolled her eyes at my explanation. I swear sometimes it's like she just met me.<br />
<br />Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-34502631366027599402015-06-22T18:25:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.411-07:00And this is why I prefer shopping at homeAh the joys of online shopping. You can do it while wearing pajamas or the stained, crappy clothes you reserve only for laundry day. You don't have to venture into the heat thus peeling yourself out of the car each time you need to go into a store. And lastly, you don't have to deal with weird nonsense like I did this past weekend.<br />
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A week ago I bought a pair of summery pants. I was on the fence about them but I paid for them anyway. Then when I got home I had buyer's remorse and decided I did not like them as much as I thought I did. And then Sandra Bullock's voice echoed in my head that line from the Blind Side "<i>If you don't absolutely love it in the store you won't wear it; the store's where you like it best.</i>" When I went to return them I found out that their return policy is even exchange or store credit only. No cash back. Well, this sucks. So basically they are holding my money hostage and forcing me to buy products from them. I took the store credit which I will use in the future and then never buy from there again.<br />
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Next I had to stop in at Target. On my way from the car to the entrance I was approached by a couple asking for gas money. Their "story" was that they left their house without a wallet and have no money for gas to get home. <i>Weird</i>. For good measure the boyfriend/husband/accomplice added that they drove up to see the OB/GYN. <i>Okay....what?</i> They <u>both </u>left the house without a wallet? He's driving around with no ID or driver's license? And I'm fairly certain there isn't a doctor around who will see you without showing them your insurance card or having any money to pay for the visit. This all sounded a little funky to me. I wanted to say all this but instead I told them I never carry cash on hand.<br />
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Now before anyone calls me an unsympathetic beetch let me say that I have in the past given money to pan-handlers. I do support several charities and I can be a sucker for a hard luck case. But these two looked and sounded as suspicious as their story.<br />
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My last stop took me to a place where all I wanted was to purchase a gift card/certificate. However, the cashier, who was very sweet and apologetic, told me that they were under new management and that gift certs were suspended until all the old information was gone. Whatever that means. <i>Weird</i>.<br />
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All of this plus the simple convenience are why I plan to do more online shopping from the comfort of my home while wearing my yoga pants and Avengers t-shirt and eating ice cream.Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-40432650325969487012015-06-20T08:00:00.000-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.485-07:00Drop the other shoe alreadyThings are going so well lately that it scares me. It's like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. So I started thinking about that phrase "Waiting for the other shoe to drop." Where did it come from? Was there a time when people sat and dropped one shoe and then waited for the other one to fall?<br />
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Imagine walking into a room where two people are sitting. One shoe is on the floor and the other is being held by one person while both are staring at the shoe in hand. You ask, "<i>What are you doing</i>?"<br />
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And the answer is "<i>Well, we let one shoe fall and now we're waiting for the other shoe to drop</i>."<br />
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So many sarcastic retorts come to mind. <i>Okay, don't let me stop you</i>. <i>Let me know how that turns out.</i> And, <i>Are you high or stupid</i>? <i>Or both? </i><br />
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I did some checking and according to Wiktionary this phrase means: <b>To wait for the inevitable next step. To await an inevitable event. To wait for something bad to happen</b>.<br />
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Seems there's a lot of waiting involved in this saying. But I still didn't see what all this waiting had to do with shoes. I searched some more and found the origin on a couple of sites that put this saying to the late 19th/early 20th century in NYC when apartments were all built the same and you could hear your neighbors through the walls and floors.<br />
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The story goes that late one night a drunk man came home and while sitting on his bed he took off one shoe and dropped it on the floor. Realizing how noisy he was being he removed the other shoe and quietly placed it on the floor. Then he crawled into bed to sleep. A few minutes later the man in the apartment below him yelled, "Well, drop the other one! I can't sleep, waiting for you to drop the other shoe."<br />
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I imagine that if this saying were born in this day and age there would be some colorful language added. In fact I think the phrase would be entirely different because the neighbor would yell, "You better knock that shit off!" So with that in mind, things are going so well lately that it scares me. It's like I'm waiting to knock that shit off.<br />
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<br />Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3846331961014804073.post-78666368629309149412015-06-16T19:11:00.001-07:002019-05-30T11:23:50.784-07:00The cheap tape vs. meThe task was an easy one. Put these files in those boxes and build more boxes if needed. Simple, right? Yeah...I thought so, too.<br />
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Now, I know that sometimes doing certain jobs can confound me but this is not one of them. I've put together many boxes throughout the years both for filing away archives at jobs and for moving. Those quick set up storage boxes from Staples I can practically make in my sleep. And regular moving boxes are a snap with a tape dispenser.<br />
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I filled the first few cartons and figured I would need at least one more so after going through the pile I found one that would serve my purpose. I grabbed it and headed to the supply closet. After coming up empty on my search for a tape gun I found the rolls of masking tape in the back. I prefer the clear packing tape but I thought, <i>Okay, I can make this work. </i><br />
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When I went to pull the tape to get started I noticed that it was all ragged. Someone didn't break it off evenly, or, they were in a big hurry. So I broke off the little pieces and pulled an even strip. Then I built my box, held the lid in place and started pulling the tape from one end to the other. And I watched as the piece got thinner until it was just this narrow, jagged size.<br />
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<i>Oh for crying out loud</i>, I thought. I broke the piece off and began to fiddle with the tape again to get a whole sheet going. This time I started applying tape on the opposite end. And the tape grew smaller and smaller again as I pulled.<br />
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Big sigh. <i>Ridiculous</i>, I said to myself. This went on several more times. In the end my box looked like something taped together by a three-year old. Oh, and it turns out I didn't need that stupid box after all because all the files fit nicely in the existing boxes.<br />
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This happened last week at work. Today I had another encounter with that evil roll of tape, which I have dubbed Cheap Tape. Which made me think of the band Cheap Trick and so I made up my own lyrics to 2 of their songs.<br />
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<i>Dream Police (Renamed Cheap Tape)</i><br />
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<i>The cheap tape it lives inside the closet</i><br />
<i>The cheap tape is one that I wouldn't get</i><br />
<i>The cheap tape is going to frustrate me, oh no </i><br />
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<i>I Want You To Want Me (Renamed I Want You To Tape Me)</i><br />
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<i>I want you to tape me</i><br />
<i>I need you to tape me</i><br />
<i>I'd love you to tape me</i><br />
<i>I'm begging you to tape me </i><br />
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When I was done I made sure the tape end was broken off evenly. Then I put the evil roll back in the closet while casting shifty eyes at it. <i>Until next time, cheap tape. </i><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: #ccccdd; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12192051310460596640noreply@blogger.com0