No matter how many times they ask, No! I DO NOT want to continue

I 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 Kill Bill-ish.

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.

No! No, I don't want to continue!

And now I'm starting to panic like, 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 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.)

I began to click "No" "Yes" and "Esc" again and again because, when in doubt just press buttons. And finally 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.

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.

What was said vs. What I heard

Overhearing other people's conversations is sometimes inevitable. It's not that I want 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.

For example, I walked into a convo-in-progress in the break room at work.

What was said: "I heard he had surgery."

What I heard: " I heard he has herpes."

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.

Then, another time at work...

What was said: "Do you like nuts?"

What I heard: "Are you like, nuts?"

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?

My battle scar

We 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.

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, Cool! Chicks dig scars. Oh wait, I am a chick. Then my son shook his head at me while saying, No Mom, no.

Here's what it looks like now:

Scar from battling a distant relative of Smaug.

It was a lot worse, all burnt up skin and bubbling but I didn't want people getting all blech and possibly puking so I waited to post a picture. I'm always thinking of you guys.

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, Must have been a small dragon. 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.

And this is why I prefer shopping at home

Ah 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.

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 "If you don't absolutely love it in the store you won't wear it; the store's where you like it best." 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.

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. Weird. For good measure the boyfriend/husband/accomplice added that they drove up to see the OB/GYN. Okay....what? They both 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.

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.

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. Weird.

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.

The cheap tape vs. me

The task was an easy one. Put these files in those boxes and build more boxes if needed. Simple, right? Yeah...I thought so, too.

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.

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, Okay, I can make this work. 

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.

Oh for crying out loud, 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.

Big sigh. Ridiculous, 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.

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.

Dream Police (Renamed Cheap Tape)

The cheap tape it lives inside the closet
The cheap tape is one that I wouldn't get
The cheap tape is going to frustrate me, oh no


I Want You To Want Me  (Renamed I Want You To Tape Me)

I want you to tape me
I need you to tape me
I'd love you to tape me
I'm begging you to tape me


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. Until next time, cheap tape.

Questions that should have answers

Sometimes I get to thinking and I puzzle over things. You see, I'm a curious sort and I have questions, things I wonder about. But no answers. I suppose I could google them but I'm a bit afraid of the results. We all know what happens when you google something you typed incorrectly. I can only imagine what I would find with my questions correctly spelled. Still, I'm curious.

So anyway, here's what keeps me up at night. Or, at least occupied when I'm bored and there's nothing good on TV.

Why is it that I manage to get an itch on my back in the exact place I can't reach and then I end up with my back against the wall doing some sort of silly mambo to get relief?


How is it that some people are so chipper in the mornings? I, on the other hand, wake up like it's the end of the world and wear my sunglasses and a don't-bother-me look as if I had too much vodka the night before.

Why are bugs in the bathroom at the exact time that I have to go, forcing me to hold it while I run screaming for Bill to go take care of them?

Would snoring be considered an acceptable form of defense or assault against a spouse? I'm just asking this for a friend, ya know. 

How is it that whenever I have to go somewhere it seems that everyone else is on the road and it takes me an ungodly hour to get out of my street?

Why does my desk always look like a ransacked stationary store despite my efforts to keep things organized?

Why do people ask me if I'm busy when they can see that I am but they never ask when I'm sitting there with nothing to do?


Does anyone else have questions they want answers to? This is a legit question and not one of those I wonder about.

Things I probably shouldn't have said out loud

Sometimes I just blurt things out for shock value or just to be a smart ass. Or because in my own mind I think I'm very comical. Following are a few examples of Things I probably shouldn't have said out loud:

When discussing an odd-shaped sculpture:

Me: It looks phallic.
Other person: Um, we're going to fill it with an orchid.
Me: You should fill it with condoms.
Silence.



When discussing the size of the freezer attached to a large refrigerator at a newly built house:

Husband: Wow, check out how much room is in here.
Me: Yeah, you could totally hide a body in here. Without even having to chop it up first.
The other people looking through the house backed away quietly.




When discussing a new dosage of medication with a nurse at my doctor's office:

Nurse: What seems to be the problem with the medication?
Me: I think the doctor's trying to kill me.
Nurse: Can you hold, please?
Then she transferred me to someone else.


That old saying, Silence is Golden may be wise and truthful. However, it's just not as funny.

My cell phone is an evil little prankster

My cell phone is routinely confused and acts like it's been in the sauce. I'm not kidding. Check it: I have it set up to read the time, date, temperature and weather with the background pic displaying day or evening. Simple, right?

So, why at 3:10 in the afternoon is it showing night time? It's not like I live in some Polar region where night lasts for months. I live in the friggin' desert! Notice that above where it says Las Vegas in the lower right of the square, the sun is showing. Weird.

Liar, it's not really night time.

If I swipe to the second page and then back to this main page a few times it automatically changes from night to day time. Like my phone is trying to say, Ta-da! It's magic!  I suspect my phone is just messing with me like some evil little prankster. Or at the very least this is revenge for all the times I call it Stupid.

Silly phone, you were just pranking me.

A weird post about pills, teeth and odd sentimentalities

I was cutting a pill in half on my nightstand one evening and one half stayed on the table and the other flew into my open drawer.

And why was the drawer open?

Because that's where I keep the knife.

And why do I keep a knife in my night table drawer?

Well, first of all, it's only a butter knife. I just thought I would clarify that before anyone thought otherwise and started watching the evening news for reports about a homicidal blogger. And no, I don't get cravings for buttered toast in the middle of the night. But I needed it for a similar reason when I was going off some meds a while back and had to start taking half doses. I just never returned it to the kitchen cutlery drawer. I'm lazy like that. And also forgetful, which explains that Payless coupon I came across from 2007. Besides one never knows when one might need a knife. They come in quite handy when you need a screwdriver but don't have one around.

So anyway, while searching for that half piece among all my jewelry, assorted papers, and other knick-knacks (hello Batman action figure), I found several loose teeth. I know, disturbing. Each time I saw a small piece of white I fished it out only to find it was a tooth.

At first there was disappointment. Where the hell is that damn pill half? Then, confusion. Why are there loose teeth in here?

Weird. This whole post is weird.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure the teeth belonged to Chris and fell out of a tissue they were in.

Why are his teeth in a tissue in my drawer?

Because I keep all the baby teeth he's lost. I'm oddly sentimental like that. Maybe I'm just plain odd. The husband says that's not only an obvious statement but an understatement.

In case you're wondering, I did finally find that stupid pill half. I now cut my pills with the drawer closed. The knife still remains in the drawer. The teeth are all in an enclosed zip-lock baggie. I cannot promise that this will be the last weird post.

Adventures in coffee-making: More of my unpublished stuff

This is another story I wrote a while back and figured I would throw it on here to give it a home and maybe amuse a few people along the way. 
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I make lousy coffee.  I do, just ask my mom. She knows her coffee and she’s been drinking several cups of it a day since she was a little girl. I don’t have the coffee gene because I’m more of a tea drinker and not much of a coffee drinker. I either add too many grounds and not enough water so it’s too strong or I add too much water and not enough grounds, which make my concoction too weak. So you can imagine my horror one morning at work when my boss said, “Make some coffee” for clients who were coming in for a morning meeting.

I must admit, my first thought was, What is this the 1950s where the secretary makes the office coffee? The boss is older and what I call “old school” so he probably expected such tasks to be “woman’s work”. If there had been a barn behind the office building I’m sure he might have asked me to get some fresh milk while I was at it.

I don't think so.

I went into the conference room and stood staring at the coffee machine, which looked nothing like what I was used to. In hindsight I should have high-tailed it over to the nearest Dunkin Donuts and filled the pot with their brew. Instead, I resolved to make a pot of fresh, hot coffee. I found the filters with no problem. But when I went searching for coffee grounds I found beans instead. Oh crap! I have to grind them? At this point I had to refer to the machine’s directions for use. Perhaps I suppose I should have stopped while I was ahead at this point.

It seemed easy enough. First, add the beans and push the button to grind them.  Then, add water and brew. The first part I had no trouble with. The second part is where things got a bit messy, as it was unclear exactly where to pour the water into. After a few moments I noticed a leak coming from under the blasted contraption. I grabbed some paper towels but the leak was growing so I grabbed a nearby saucer.  When the saucer filled up I walked as quickly and nonchalantly past the boss’s office to the kitchen to empty it.

After my third trip back from the kitchen, my boss came to see what was going on. He surveyed the situation and smirked at me while shaking his head, the way a mother looks at a cute but mischievous child. I felt like Lucy Ricardo after Ricky caught her doing something silly and I half expected him to say, “Sandy, you got some ‘splaining to do” in a Cuban accent.

I finished cleaning the mess and the boss did what he probably should have done from the beginning; he made the coffee himself. I made sure our guests had milk – from the refrigerator not a cow out back. Luckily for our future office guests, and me, he never asked me to brew a pot again. Instead, he asked the other girl in the office.

Top 10 most viewed blog posts

I had to look up a couple of past posts and I came upon one post that had a crazy amount of page views. And then I thought, why not do a list (not another list!) of my Top 10 most viewed blog posts of all time. It would appear that cartoons and bad things that happen to me are quite popular. This makes me both smile and cock my head in a confused manner.

I've linked back to the original post for those who want to go back and read it. Also, feel free to laugh at my expense (again), my family does so all the time. Hey, I'll make popcorn!


Frosty, the Miser Brothers, Kris Kringle and other Christmas 'toons (602 page views) I think people just like the pictures I posted.

Vicious malware almost ate my computer  (151 page views) Almost, but not quite.

Attack of the killer mutant snow goons (135 page views) Calvin and Hobbes pics!

Verizon almost got me killed (126 page views) I averted disaster once again.

Love makes it all worth it (98 page views) The joys of motherhood!

Strong emotions (87 page views) A sad look at diabetes.

Anxiety and panic (84 page views) Some seriousness I shared.

A little Halloweenie (74 page views) Halloween!

Attitude of gratitude (73 page views) Sometimes I forget there's much to be thankful for.

Cough, cough, sniffle (61 page views) Just a little illin'.


It's an eclectic mix with Christmas cartoons leading the pack in popularity. I fear for those who find themselves at my blog after chasing the Christmas cartoons here. Then again, maybe they come for the Christmas cartoons and stay for the crazy. Did I write 'crazy'? I meant Chocolate. 

Silly Gerber people

I received this in the mail today. I'm a little confused, and even though that happens easily to me, this one really has me asking, what the what? Does Gerber know something I don't? Because last time I checked my "baby" was 10 years old.

Um, you're about 10 years too late, Gerber.

Dude, seriously...where's my car?

I have this habit of parking my car in  a lot and then forgetting where it is when it's time to leave.

I've been known to wander around an arena lot after a concert. I've gotten off the elevator onto the wrong deck. More often than not I walk down the wrong aisle. Thought for sure I was parked over here on the left. Oh nope, there it is. And I walk over three aisles to where my car sits waiting for me.

A few months ago I had to buy something at a department store and when I exited after paying I thought someone had stolen my car. There were only 4 cars in the lot and mine wasn't one of them. Instant panic filled me. And then I looked around and realized I walked out of a different exit than the one I entered. So I walked around the building to the lot I was actually parked in. And there was my car. Whew!


For this reason, when I park somewhere I always have to look for signs or aisle numbers so I remember where my car is. Aisle 3. Oh ok, got it.

Sometimes I hit the panic button on my key chain but that's only if I've wandered around aimlessly for more than 15 minutes. I worry that one day lot security will call the police about some suspicious female wandering the parking lot.

Honestly Officer, I was not looking for a car to boost. I just couldn't find my own vehicle. At least that story would trump the time I locked my keys in the car. With the car running.

Cicadas do not cure insomnia, also I might have WWWADD

I was researching insomnia on the Internet the other day, which is never a good idea because the next thing you know you're self diagnosed with some horrible disease that can only be cured by some Far East witch doctor living in the middle of Bushwick-nowhere.

I've been having trouble falling asleep for a very long time now and in the interest of trying to establish good, responsible, adult-like sleep patterns I thought I should find out why 2 am greets me every damn night and how best to stop it.

I came across an article about circadian rhythms and thought am I having trouble sleeping because I can't hear that insect's summertime song? Come to think of it, I don't hear them as much since we moved to Vegas. It being a desert and all there's really only palm and Joshua trees. Maybe I can purchase one of those sleep-sounds machines and listen to the cicadas chirp or sing or whatever they do, all night and that will induce some serious sleepy time.

And then I opened the link and started reading about physical and behavioral changes that follow a 24-hour cycle and our response to light and dark and I was like, this has nothing to do with cicadas. Which makes sense because I have sleep issues in the winter too and cicadas are not known to make their music in cold weather.

In the end I learned:

Cicadas are insects that make their own rhythms, and circadian rhythms have to do with human biology. I much prefer my initial thinking on the matter.

The Internet is itself a huge time-suck because I spent a considerable amount of time listening to cicadas on YouTube. Either that or I have World Wide Web Attention Deficit Disorder, which I've termed WWWADD. So in some way I might have diagnosed myself with one ailment, however I still suffer from a form of insomnia.

He speaks sarcasm so that's why we get along

The other day I got up earlier than Billy. It does happen! It might be a rarity but it happens. Anyway, I tried to quietly open drawers to get my clothes but I can't help it if the hinges squeak and the metal handles clack when I let them go. I  crept over to grab my cellphone (which fell), sunglasses (hidden under piles of stuff) and keys (which are ALWAYS noisy).

I turned and saw him doing the one-eyed peek from half under his pillow. So I smiled and said, "Oh hi, you're awake."

And he looked at me with that, no kidding Mrs. McNoisypants, look.

To which I replied, "I tried to be quiet while getting ready."

And he zinged me with "Yeah, that's not really working for you."

It was such a sarcastic comment, spoken with such affection. I couldn't help but laugh and be proud.

So good I forgot how to speak properly and made up a new word, sort of.

Tonight I went to our local Dairy Queen (DQ) for a milkshake. They opened up this past Spring and I kept meaning to get there, in spite of myself. It's that whole "trying to be healthier, blah blah blah".

So I got a vanilla milkshake because apparently I'm boring (thanks Billy!). And it was so good. So good that I got in the car, happily straw-sipping and said to myself, this is easiliest the best milkshake. Ever.

Easiliest? Is that even a word? Was I suffering from some form of brain-freeze or was I just so taken aback by the cold, yummy goodness that I meshed easily and easiest together to cleverly form a new word?

I told Billy this and of course he just looked at me and shrugged because in his world easiliest is an actual word. Grammatical humor is often lost on him.

Then I decided to look it up and guess what? Easiliest is a word. According to Wiktionary:

Adverb

easiliest

1. (literary, dated) superlative form of easily: most easily

This means that I'm not as clever as I thought. It also means the husband is smarter than we both thought.

I'm not a coke user, I only sound like one

When it's windy outside, my allergies flare up. Not as bad as when I was in NJ and I was a runny nose, watery eyes, sneezing, sniffling bag of misery. Attractive, huh?

So these days I'm reduced to sniffling and occasional sneezing with the occasional exception of a full-on allergic episode because I encountered something that set me off. 

It's an improvement but I still sound like a coke addict. I imagine people giving me that look and thinking, "Oh honey, you need a tissue. Or an intervention."  No, what I really need is for you to not bathe in that god-awful perfume you're wearing that has an outdoor-woodsy scent. Sniffle, sniffle.

Actually maybe some coke would be good to help me lost some weight. You've never seen a heavy cokehead before, have you? All the rockers I listened to when I was younger were skinny back then. These days, they're off the coke and now buying in the 'Big & Tall' section. Emphasis on big.

Now before anyone goes berserk thinking that I'm advocating drug use let me explain that I have only entertained the notion in a sarcastic manner. Besides I have no idea where to get such illegal substances and I certainly don't have the money for it. And even if I did, with my luck I'd get caught and thrown in jail. "But officer, I was only buying it for healthful reasons, to lose some weight because I'm too impatient (and a little lazy) to do it the old-fashioned way."  Somehow, I don't see Metro buying that.

This brings me to another humorous drug-related story.

I was always a nail biter growing up. I would try to let them grow and eventually bit them again. Sometimes I would allow a few to grow, but I'd bite the rest. Sometimes I let a single nail grow; usually the pinky on one hand. I have no explanation for this.

One day while sitting in class, one of the burnouts said to me, "You got a coke spoon."

Me: (confused) A what?

Burnout: Yeah, dude on your hand.

Me: (still confused and feeling stupid while looking at my hands) ???

Burnout: Your finger (laughs and nods toward my left hand)

Me: (no longer confused though still feeling stupid but trying to play it off) Oh yeah.

I had never heard of this before and I certainly never used a long nail for anything like that until then. The things you learn in school.


Please note that I DO NOT advocate illegal drugs in any way, shape or form unless prescribed medicinally and used while under a doctor's care.

Me vs. stairs

I suffer from a mild case of bathmophobia. No, this does not mean I'm afraid of taking a bath, despite how the word sounds. Bathmophobia is a fear of stairs.

I think whoever coined that word was way off. And an idiot. So for the purpose of this post and because it makes more sense, I will call my fear, Stepophobia.

I didn't always have this fear. Actually, it's not a true fear. Let's just say I'm more cautious when going down them these days. Kind of like I'm walking through a landmine field while carrying nitroglycerin.

Anyway, like I was saying, it wasn't always like this. Until I misjudged some basement stairs and broke my ankle. I swear no alcohol was involved. It was a straight up accident that pissed me off more than it hurt. Like, ouch! Who the hell moved the damn stairs?!

Once I was able to walk completely cast-free again I became more aware of things that affected my legs and feet. Even wearing high heels weirded me out because I thought that one wrong move, one slip of the heel and I could twist or worse, break my ankle. Not that I ever wore extremely high heels like the clackers who go clubbing in stilettos do.

I have since gotten a lot better regarding my stepophobia. I can wear heels more confidently without worrying about tripping and ending up on the floor in a heap. I walk down stairs with more ease although I use the handrail more than I ever did. However, I wouldn't recommend walking behind me when I'm going down a staircase in high heels. In that situation, I still walk like it's my first time with the new legs.

If it wasn't for the last minute

In just one week, JDRF is having their annual Gala, which is a serious, big deal, fancy-schmancy fundraiser. Even though I'm "working" the event as a volunteer, I still have to get all dressed up in my Sunday best.

Currently I have half an outfit, which I'm on the fence about. I had my eye on, and finally bought, this cute, black, high-low sheer skirt. Yes, it fits fine. Yes, it looks good. Yes, I could be a little taller, however, I plan to wear heels.

Now, I need a top to go with and I'd like a comfortable pair of heels, preferably higher and more comfy than my current strappy, black sandals.

 My problem is....Is the skirt dressy enough? Should I just find a dress and return the skirt? Why did I wait until the last minute? Oh, I know the answer to that last question! It's because, I'm me and sometimes I like to add unnecessary stress to my life by waiting until the last minute.  I mean, how else will I get motivated to do certain things? 

Oh, and for those of you wondering, no, a leather jacket is not acceptable. Although a leather skirt might work but then I'm stuck with half an outfit again and still shopping.

I've never been one of those women who lives to shop for clothes. In fact, I've hated it in the past. Does this make me anti-woman? Crap! I hope I don't have to turn in my girl-card because Lord knows where the hell I've misplaced that thing! Anyway, I have since, gotten better and will actually buy something when I set out to go clothes-shopping these days. 

As for the Gala...I swear I will find something to wear this weekend. Something nice. And not ridiculously expensive either. Even if it kills me. In which case, bury me in the damn outfit so it wasn't a total waste.

You say Venitian, I say Venetian

It happened, again. In another of those unlikely places, too. I found a misspelled word. I can't help it, my eyes just zero in on the typo/misspelled word. I could be reading War and Peace or the back of a cereal box and Bam! there it is. I don't actively look for them, I mean I'm not some crazy spelling nazi who critiques everything she reads. I just, see words.

It was just like that time on the (fake) bridge of the Enterprise at the Star Trek Experience when I glanced down at Worf's post and saw the word "torpedo" spelled "torpeod". Hundreds of people tour through there. I see the mistake. And yes, I did tell the guide. He was surprised, especially since he thought I had a Trekkie-related question when I rose my hand. He came over and acknowledged that torpedo was indeed spelled wrong. I always wanted to go back to see if they corrected it but the attraction closed in 2008.

Anyway, I have a self described, unhealthy fascination with all things mafia. Which leads me to my recent spelling error discovery. We were at the Mob Attraction located in the Tropicana. [Shameless plug for my city: This is a great attraction to see. It's interactive, informative and reasonably priced. Plus they renovated the Tropicana and it looks fabulous, all bright and newish.]

As we were making our way around, reading about the gangsters of old Vegas, there was this exhibit with a fake explosion box that you can push down the plunger as if you were imploding an old casino. It was hooked up to a screen that played the actual hotel explosions and the screen would tell you what hotel you blew up and what exists there today. One of us, I think it was Christopher, blew up the Sands and the screen informed us that the Venetian now sits on that site. Except it was spelled "Venitian". The writing comes on and disappears quickly. I mean, blink and you miss it. I didn't miss it. And then I blew up more hotels to come back to that one just to see if what I read was true. And yes, they spelled the hotel incorrectly. Bill looked at me as if to say, only you would spot the mistake.

This time, however, I didn't tell anyone. It's a Mob exhibit for goodness sake! I don't want to end up at the bottom of Lake Mead for being a know-it-all!