The last. . . A list of stuff I did

I thought I would share a little about myself in the context of the last 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.

The Last. . .


Movie I saw
In theaters - The Avengers - Age of Ultron
At home - The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies


Book I read
A Tale of Two Vampires 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.



Website I was on
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.


Item I bought
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.


Person I called/texted
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.


Thing I ate
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.


Thing I googled
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.


So, what was the last whatever you did?

Tis the season for grrr-ing.

Christmas has come and gone. And with it so has goodwill toward men. Or at least that's what I saw at the After-Christmas sales in the stores today.

source

Amid all the half price decorations and wrapping paper there was griping and shopping carts being pushed into people.

I managed to buy some gift paper and tags for next year's wrapping frenzy without sustaining any bodily harm. And luckily for my fellow shoppers, no one got whacked on the head as I juggled six rolls of wrapping paper. I almost took out an elderly lady as I was checking on some tissue paper. Almost. But in my defense she did knock into me with her over-sized purse so I'm pretty sure we would have been even.

Was anyone else brave enough to enter a store the day after Christmas? Come on guys, don't leave me hangin'.

I probably should have skipped this writing prompt and written about anything else

The first writing prompt for this month's NaBloPoMo is: Write about an amazing imaginary brand or organization you'd love to work with. I was going to skip this and write about something else because I'm not creative enough to think of an imaginary brand/organization. Then it hit me. Not so much hit me like a bus but more like the splat you get when a bird poops on you.

I speak in movie quotes so this seemed like a great idea. I would like to work with an organization dedicated to archiving random quotes from movies and television because let's face it there's a quote for just about every situation in life. We could have a phone number and  live people on hand to research the perfect quote or, a mobile app for instant access to our library database. This could seriously help benefit those with weak comeback responses.


Does something like this exist? It probably does. Which means I'm already screwing up NaBloPoMo. And the month just started!

In all seriousness, if I could work for any imaginary brand I'd like to work for Santa Claus. I could even learn to love all the cold and snow because of the great perks, like an endless supply of cookies from Mrs. C. Yes, I do love Christmas and all that it brings so working at the North Pole would be so much fun. Besides, everyone's always so jolly and happy, it would be better and cheaper than anti-depressants. Now, I'm not talking as an elf making the toys but I wouldn't mind being a journalist on the North Pole Gazette or contributing to their website.

And now that I've added to the full on rush of Christmas by mentioning it this early in November and also possibly traumatized any children reading this, I'm going to end right here and hope that my month and my posts get better. Maybe I should have asked the Great Pumpkin to bring me a list of acceptable topics to write about.

A new, improved library alarm sign

Last year I wrote a post about my library and their alarm sign. Well, I guess the sign was a bit too inconspicuous because one day recently we walked in and saw a newer, larger sign in its place.

Before

Too plain?

After

Sign? What sign?

The new sign is bigger but no less polite than the original. Also, notice the pretty border around the white?  And the stand itself is sturdier. What are the odds that some people will still walk by this while the alarm sounds?

Silly signs

I was bored, and online, which in itself is a bad combo, yeah well. So I decided to google 'Silly signs' because they amuse me. I'll share a few worthy ones with ya.


Because spelling out BANANA was much too difficult...

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They say when selling a house certain disclosures are required. Um, this might be too much...

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This explains why I'm not a die-hard coffee drinker...

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Five minutes later, edited to add: Bottle of rocks also missing, just yell.

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Sounding alarms at the library

Taking a break from Fall/Halloween themed posts today. Instead I'll share with you a sign posted outside of my library (in the building's foyer):

Unless you're covertly stealing library materials or have unpaid fees, in which case just ignore and keep on walking.

I don't know, maybe it's just me, but when I start to walk out of a place of business and an alarm sounds I generally stop and wait until someone comes over to 'clear' me of any alleged wrongdoing. That includes leaving the library. I guess enough patrons were just ignoring the loud, blaring noise they triggered upon leaving that it necessitated this sign.  Note the "please" and "thank you" in it. Less accusatory and more polite. Miss Manners would be proud.

To sleep, perchance to dream

Here is the post I wrote the other night. You know, the one I mentioned while explaining my crazy, busy week? The one I wrote while being super tired and needed to clean up before publishing it on here? Yes, yes, that one.

I was on this highly educational website and I came across something interesting. And by highly educational I mean Pinterest. And when I say interesting, I really mean creepy.

There was this quote: If you can't fall asleep, it means you're awake in someone else's dream.

Well, thank you very much person dreaming about me. Because of you, I am lying awake here when I should be sleeping. Remind me to kick your damn sleeping ass next time you drag me into one of your dreams.


I would also like to point out how disturbing this quote is as well. I mean, would me being in someone else's dream qualify as kidnapping in some way? I am kinda there not of my own free will because I'd rather be sleeping but I can't because I have to go be in someone's dream.

It's almost like a job in a way. I have to go be somewhere else and I really don't want to. And I'm not even getting paid for this nocturnal visit!  And let's not even discuss why I'm there in the first place and what I'm doing. In some cases me being in someone's dream could certainly be considered a nightmare.

At least I hope that I'm wearing a kick-ass outfit and looking awesome in whoever's dream I'm in. Then again, I'd rather not know. I shudder to think about what goes on in some people's heads, let alone their subconscious while they're sleeping. 

My advice?

Go to sleep and leave me be! I have my own dreamy weirdness to deal with.

A Letter to my poor neglected blog and the unfortunate souls who read her

Dear Blog and Followers,


I have not abandoned you. Even though it's February and I have Two, just Two stinkin' entries to show for this year. I've been busy? I'm trying to look for a (gulp!) actual bricks 'n mortar job. I know, that's no excuse.

In all seriousness, I've temporarily lost my writing mojo. It's kinda like writer's block except it sounds swankier because instead of wanting to write but having nothing to say, I have lots to say but no oomph to do it. Which also means I'm lazy. Okay not so much me, but my Muse. She's the lazy one. I blame her! She took off on a vacation for parts unknown and left no forwarding address and I've been stuck here alone trying to make myself write something, anything. But I hate doing that because it just sounds so forced, like when the teacher made you write an essay about someone you admire. But then you couldn't decide who to write about and what to say so you sat there watching the clock and looking at your classmates furiously writing away and you panicked so you ended up writing about your old, eccentric aunt who collects porcelain cats and smells like mothballs. Thanks a lot for that exercise in writing humiliation Mrs. Teacher!

Anyway, I promise to return here and post more silly, inane things about my life and make witty observations about the world. Just as soon as Miss Lazy Muse returns.

Thank you for being so excellent. And not judging. At least not too harshly.

Sincerely,
Me

My stupid head

Yesterday evening while listening to my ipod I told Bill that my ears must be smaller than average. He gave me that oh jeez I can't wait to hear this one look. So naturally I had to explain my reasoning behind this profound statement.

My earbuds don't stay in and I have to keep pushing them back in.

Without missing a beat he said that's because all the stupid in your head keeps pushing them out.

Touche, husband.

And he might just be right about that. There is a whole mess of stupid roaming the halls of my head in between video streams of Tom Cat trying to catch Jerry Mouse. In any case, if this keeps up I'm just buying a new pair of headphones. To better hear the music and ya know, keep the stupid from completing falling out. 

Evil gnomes are attacking my desk

Monday mornings my desk (and I use the term loosely) is pretty neat. Bills that have been paid are filed away. Loose paper finds a home. Scraps and nonsense are tossed in the garbage. Even my pens and pencils are neatly put in their cute little cup holder. My mom would be proud. Okay, maybe she'd at least be pleased with the effort.


By the weekend it looks like someone broke in, ransacked the place, put everything back neatly but left my desk a scary mess. Upon further thinking I might not be far off the mark. Maybe I'm being targeted by evil desk gnomes who work for an underground faction that dislikes organization and neatness.

Of course I'll need to gather evidence to support my claim.

Maybe if I sprinkle powder around my desk, I'll find little gnome foot prints the next day. Or claws considering they're evil. Maybe forget the powder idea. Besides I'm not sure how I would explain what I was doing to Bill. He's not a gnome believer.

Why couldn't I be the focus of cute, little pixie neatniks who flutter about straightening files and papers while leaving behind magical  pixie dust? Then my desk would be tidy and we'd have magical dust to play with. A win-win situation all around.

Damn you evil desk gnomes and your messy hi-jinks!

Toys to die for

Yesterday we took Chris to Toys 'R Us because he's been a good kid lately, and he had a gift card (so it wasn't our money to be spent) and because he's been dying...dyyyyyyying for a Ninjago (Lego ninjas) toy. And us, being such awesome parents, gave into his wish.

When we walked in and came upon the Lego department that housed the desired toy(s), it was sensory overload.  Think of that scene in the movie, "Despicable Me"  where Agnes wants the stuffed unicorn.

Here's the clip: It's so fluffy I'm gonna diiiiie!  

Yeah, that's what it was like.

Anyway, Little Man's eyes were literally bugging out of his head. There were so many to choose from. He looked at each and every one.  To make a choice was agony.

Then we told him to walk around the store for a bit and check out the other toys. He looked at us in horror, as if we told him that it was all a cruel joke and he couldn't buy one. But we promised him he could come back and pick his favorite. Only then did he consent to come along with us. So we walked around looking at this and that and remarking at some of the over-the-top prices.

At one point I wandered away alone and came upon some new breed of ridiculous, over-priced, time-wasting entertainment meant to lure unsuspecting parents and gullible children into purchasing.

It's called the Ugly Doll and it's a stupid wind-up toy. And IT AMUSES ME TO NO END!

I love the blue bat, called the ice bat because it just hops around in a circle.  My other fave is the red bat but it just hops straight across.  Here's what they look like:

 The other wind-ups in the group just bend forward and then do a sudden surprise backwards flip. Not nearly as amusing. Sorry for the poor pic quality but I was using my cell phone, but yes that price is $4.99 for a silly wind up toy.  But I want it!!  It so amusing, I'm gonna diiiiiie!!!

I would make a half-assed bat

And here's why: I don't see well in the dark. This would make the idiom "blind as a bat" true for me if only that phrase were true. I found the following on Animal.Discovery.com:

Are Bats Really Blind?
This saying has become a fixture of everyday vernacular and the assumption likely developed because bats primarily use a form of sonar to navigate through dark areas and avoid obstacles. However, their eyes, while small and sometimes poorly developed, are also completely functional, not to mention the fact that they have excellent hearing and sense of smell. 

Anyway, I could probably get by relying on my other senses, except my sense of smell would be compromised because my nose frequently battles allergies to breathe. And I lack the ability to use sonar for navigation although I have my trusty cell phone as a night light to get around.

I have most some of the necessary bat requirements pretty much covered. My wardrobe includes a lot of    dark clothing. Not in the goth sense more in the black-goes-with-everything sense. And I'm nocturnal in that I'm always up late at night. Probably because I have a bit of insomnia.


I also have good hearing and prefer to watch TV with the volume at a low level. Often when Bill sits down while I'm watching something he'll say, "Oh the bat is in the room again."  He likes the volume loud enough to broadcast to the neighborhood. It's a battle between us.

The only other problem I would have in being a bat is that I don't fly. Unless someone built me a wingman suit. And the whole sleeping upside down thing.  Not giving up my sleep number bed to hang from the ceiling of some dank cave. I draw the line there.

This whole post brought to you by the letter O, for Odd stuff that I think about when I can't sleep.

Zombies vs. Aliens

Last night Little Man and Bill were looking up movies to rent from Red Box. They debated between "Alien Apocalypse", "Zombie Apocalypse" and a few others.  Then a question arose of which would wipe us out first, aliens or zombies. So I said, "Duh. Everyone knows the zombie apocalypse will happen first." And here's my logic:

 There are tons of scientists conducting research on how to cure the diseases of the world. All we need is one who is evil has questionable morals and bam! Instant zombie virus. Let's not forget that a flesh eating bacteria already exists.

Anyway, once the zombie virus has infected everyone and we're all vulnerable and mindless the aliens will swoop down and attack us, thus creating the alien apocalypse.

However, if the aliens eat our brains they will become zombie aliens and if they can't defeat our mass zombie army and some escape without knowing that they are infected they could go out into space and create an Inter-galactic zombie alien apocalypse.

Yeah. I know. Crazy. And by crazy I'm talking about my brain and the unsettling thoughts that live there. I feel bad for whatever zombie eats it.

Oh and the boys finally decided against renting a movie and watched TV instead.

VS.

I don't control the weather, but I wish I did

It's been windy here for the past 3 days. Thursday to Friday it was scary windy. Not quite drop-a-house-on-you windy but still windy enough to push around patio furniture. I hate it. I'd rather have a good ol' thunderstorm. Claps of thunder and lightning bolts don't bother me. Watching to see if a tree will snap in half and come crashing down on the house...scary.

Every time it's windy here I feel responsible. Why? Because it was my idea to move out here and then my parents followed and my dad's best friend who we refer to as Uncle came soon after. So I feel like if the weather is less than stellar it's somehow my fault. I told Bill this and he said, "That's stupid. It's not like you can control the weather." I know, he's right. Although it would be cool.

I spoke with some of the resident lifers, those who have lived here all their lives. They said it never used to get so windy so often. I remember past vacations here and it was always warm and sunny which was a key selling point to us moving here. It's still warm and sunny 80% of the time. If only we could get rid of the stupid wind. Where is that dang Wind De-activator button?

Oh sleep, why hast thou forsaken me?

Sleep and I are sometimes like two ships passing in the night. I go to bed all ready to sleep and then, lay there totally wide awake. And yet a few short hours ago I was tired and could have gone to sleep right then but it was too early and would have messed up my already messed up sleep schedule even more.

I go to bed too late. I can't fall right asleep. Sometimes I can't stay asleep. I think I'm a partial insomniac. I'm like an insom because I do eventually fall asleep.

Full blown insomniacs hardly sleep at all. I wonder if they nap during the day? I can nap during the day without any problems. Maybe sleep thinks I'm cheating on it when I nap and that's why I'm having difficulty? I don't always nap, though. And I don't plan on it, it just happens. If you visit more often, sleep, I promise no more naps.

See you tonight.

Don't call me, I'll call you

I'm not a fan of talking on the phone. Gabbing, gossiping, catching up on life, blah blah blah. I really don't enjoy it. Business calls are the worst but that's usually because I don't like dealing with crappy customer service and bureaucratic nonsense.

Thank God for social media or I'd never communicate with my friends or the outside world. People would think I'm a recluse and avoid my house for fear of disturbing "the un-communicative woman who lives there".

I'm not even sure where this dislike of phone calls came from. As a teen-age girl I was always on the phone with my girlfriends. So much that my dad got me my own private phone line so that "other people in the house could use the telephone".

These days I have to be in the mood to make a phone call. Almost like a doctor having to block out some time for an appointment. Once I'm on the phone, I'm fine. I can talk for a while. And I shamefully confess that sometimes I do other things while on the phone like, paint my toenails, straighten up my desk area or the ever popular doodling. Oh come on, I'm not the only one. Don't judge!

Don't get me wrong, I'm not unsociable and I love my friends. I would just rather we email, text, message one another or tweet than talk on the phone.

Maybe I'm being unreasonable, or silly or unreasonably silly. But to me the phone is a necessary evil. That I try to avoid.

A hairy situation

I'm having a good hair day today. So naturally it's a windy day here. *sigh*

My hair is at that unruly stage where I need a haircut and have resolved to ponytail it a lot. However, yesterday after my shower, I put it into a french braid and then dried it. I left it in the braid all day, all night, even sleeping on it which was great because I didn't have to play tug of war with it throughout the night as I tossed and turned.

Anyway, I showered and blow dried it and then about an hour later undid the braid to reveal wavy hair. It looks pretty darn good. Like, take-me-out-and-let's-go-dancing good. But then by the time we went from house to car and car to club the wind would muck it up and I'd look like crap which would defeat the whole purpose. Because that's how it goes with me.

My hair will usually start to cooperate and look good just prior to going to the salon to get it cut. It's like my hair is saying, "Don't cut us. See how good we look? I promise to behave from now on and hold a beautiful style for you."

Until the next time when it goes flat and looks and acts like a hat on my head instead of hair. Time for a cut. A trim, really. Despite the weather.

One stop shopping

Talk about convenience. I guess you really can get anything at Wal-Mart because someone used the store's women's bathroom as a Meth Lab. Story here. Funny. And sad.

Verizon almost got me killed

I tried to pay my Verizon Wireless bill last night but when I went to log in I somehow had the incorrect password and eventually it locked me out of the account. There was much cursing.

In order to access the account I now had to enter the last 4 SSN digits of the primary account holder (husband). I did this and then it prompted me for a Verifiable Bill Security Password. What in the heyall? I guessed. I was wrong. I tried again. Still wrong. I cursed again.

It then said if I had any problems to contact customer service. More cursing on my end. So, I reluctantly dialed their 800 number. After choosing the directory I needed it asked me for the account password. Huh? If I knew that I wouldn't be calling now, would I? I pressed 0 hoping to get to an operator. "Option invalid." I said "representative." It continued to cycle through my options, none of which pertained to me.

I started shouting into my phone "Representative! A human! Someone who can help me!" As if sensing my frustration and how close I was to flushing my phone down the toilet the automated system told me to press 0 if I wanted to speak to a Customer Care Associate. Finally!!

Paul came on the line and after his introductory spiel asked me how he could help. I explained the problem. He said since I was only an Account Manager and not the Primary Account Holder he couldn't tell me the password on file. Christ on a bike! I'm the effing wife! I pay this damn bill! I told Paul I knew my husband's mother's maiden name, the name of his first dog, his height, weight and blood type. Help me out for the love of all that's holy! He laughed and said if I knew the last 4 digits of his SSN, that would work. Oy! Didn't I already do this? Okay, fine, so I give him the numbers.

Paul unlocked the account and texted a temporary password to Bill's phone which I entered. Then Paul had to do a few more things in order for me to go online and change the password again to something I would remember.

While Paul did his thing I joked around with him. "Ya know my husband is going to kill me for changing the password. The headlines will scream "Verizon blamed in death of wife". There'll be a media firestorm. People will be outraged, customers will switch service providers and stocks will plummet. All because of Verizon's security protocol."

Paul was hysterical. "See, you should be glad I called. It was a break in the monotony of your shift." I said. He agreed.

When we finally concluded our business he asked the usual .."anything else I can help you with?"

"No, but thank you for your help, patience and courtesy. In spite of the fact that I am late in paying my bill."

Then I paid my bill online and wrote a nice complimentary email to Verizon's Customer Service Department in which I mentioned Paul being so helpful.

I also made a note of the new password for future bill payment. Hopefully I don't lose it.

Hey I'm totally linking up with Yeah Write. Check it out:

 

Best way to spend a Saturday night

Going to see a show on the Strip:  $50 and up, give or take an arm or a leg.

Going to see a movie: $50 including over-priced tickets, stale, unevenly buttered popcorn, watered-down drink, and half filled box of raisinets.

Getting your butt kicked by your 8-year old while playing Go Fish in the comfort of your own home:  Priceless.

And embarrassing.


I'm linking up with the Yeah Write blogging peeps.