Category: Humor

Health, Humor, Husband, Working Out

Jillian Michaels Is As Evil As She Seems

“I came the simple way, down the stairs.”
“Down the stairs?  To Ursa Minor?  Hey, you must be unbelievably fit.”
– Douglas Adams, The Hitchhikers’ Guide to the Galaxy

On the recommendation of a coworker, a rather impressive sister-in-law, and over a thousand Amazon customers, I picked up Jillian Michaels’ 30 Day Shred.  Amusingly, the DVD case got worked over in the mail and it arrived, ahem, shredded!  (Guffaw)

The DVD itself runs just fine, but that’s more than can be said for us.  J. pushed himself too hard the first day we did it and lost his dinner rather inelegantly.  I’ve been unable to walk without wobbling a bit for the past few days,.  Iimagine a more than usually ungainly penguin bobbing back and forth across the ice and you’ll have some idea what I look like going up and down stairs.

My bum hurts.

In other words, it’s working.  I’m determined to be extremely fit by the time we go off to grad school!

Family, Humor

Mum’s the Word

“At the risk of being crass, Mum, you do realize that you kick ass, right?”
“I do, don’t I!”
– C., Mum

A belated post on my Mum, because I spent yesterday talking on the phone to her and having dinner at my in-laws’, like a good daughter should!

1.  Mum, you were horribly, obnoxiously right about piano lessons.  I’m glad you sat on my head for ten years so I could realize I liked them.  I wish I had practiced more.

2.  Thanks for letting me quit ballet.   I regret doing it and I miss it, but that teacher was evil.  You got me out of a bad situation, and taught me long term the value of really knowing how much I can take.

3.  You taught me how to cook.  I’ll never love it, but let me tell you, when I put my mind to it, even you would be impressed with what I can whip up!

4.  You taught me how to stand up for myself and that sometimes it’s necessary to be a vicious, biting wench when it comes to sticking up for friends, family, and principles.

5.  You also taught me to be a lady, and that it was more than sitting up straight, keeping my elbows off the table, and knowing which fork to use with which course (even though you were pretty good about covering those too).  It’s that my actions directly affect everyone I come in contact with, and I’d better behave accordingly.  I’m still working on this one, but I have high hopes for myself.

6.  You taught by example that my education doesn’t ever end, and must be aggressively sought throughout life.  Three degrees, four kids, ten moves across countries and continents, two dogs, and Cambridge later, you’re still learning and teaching.

7.  You taught me the importance of belief and faith, even when it’s unpopular and hard, and that no set of principles is worth having if it’s not worth questioning, struggling over, and occasionally taking that Indiana Jones step into nothing.

8.  You always trusted me, with school, boys, work, high school, and my own opinions.  You gave advice when I asked for it, and let me go my own merry way when I didn’t.  This quiet confidence in me kept me straight like helicopter parenting never could.  Clever you.

9.  More Dior, less Disney.  Best lesson ever.

I stand by what I said, Mum, you totally kick ass.

Love,
Your Not Quite Perfectly Ladylike But Getting There Thanks to You Daughter

Humor, Husband

Smart Husbands Make For Healthy Lifestyles

“Marriage must constantly fight against a monster which devours everything:  routine.”
~ Honore de Balzac

Margot and I couldn’t work out as usual last night, but she decided to come over to utilize my prodigious cutting and pasting skills to make a project for her class.  She wasn’t coming over until 8pm so after putting dinner in the oven and dropping on the sofa, I threw a baleful glare at Harley.

Wait a second...

“I need to bike tonight,” I sighed, snuggling down in the cushions.
J. glanced over at me, saw my lazy intentions, and grinned cheekily.
“I bet you won’t.”
I sat up sharply.  “Excuse me?”
“You,” he reiterated.  “I bet you won’t bike.”
“The hell I won’t!” I snapped and dragged it of its corner before everything clicked.
“Oh.  You’re clever.  I’m on to you.”
“But is it working?”
“Yes.  Drat.”

Sneaky boy.

Family, Humor

A History, Told Through Emails

“It snowed last year too:  I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea.”
~ Dylan Thomas

Buddy
Yes I know I sound narccissistic, but I need your help for school. What is your favorite childhood memory of me? I need to make a short story of it.

Gio
Probably all of our made up games we played on the trampoline

C.
I always liked jousting with those ridiculous bouncy-ball things.

Buddy
I need an exact memory to put into a story.

Gio
Then use the jousting one.  Those were awesome

C.
What was our war cry again?

Gio
CHAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!  Good times, good times…

Buddy
This isnt helping?

C.
Why not? Here’s your story. One day we were bored and Mom had banned us all from TV (we’d probably done something illegal). After she kicked us outside the three of us pouted, moped, and whined for a while before Gio picked up one of the bouncy balls.  Me being the charming older sister that I am, decided to give chase on the other bouncy ball. You, four-year-old Buddy, were at the height of your knight-obsessed stage and recognized our idiocy for the potential genius of modernized jousting that it was.  You ordered us to opposite sides of the yard to wait until you signaled, at which point we let out a battle cry and bounced with all our might at each other. First one dislodged lost. Thereafter every Sunday in the summer, we held tournaments.

Hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny.

Buddy
I cant write a whole page on “chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrge!!!”

C.
See above.  Ingrate.

Buddy
Perfect!

Gio
Bingo.

C.
High fives everyone.

Our noble steeds.
Humor, Secretary, Work

Bring Me Your Gold, Virgins, and Chocolate!

“Next to excellence is the appreciation of it.”
~ William Makepeace

Being a secretary is largely thankless.  It doesn’t matter that you can’t use a fax machine without my help and haven’t the faintest clue how to order your own printing paper, I will still be lower on the totem poll.  It’s worrying, poodles.

But it’s Office Administrative Professionals Week and Susie bought us all cupcakes to celebrate our awesomeness.  I’m munching on a chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting and Nutella stuffed little tribute to the fact that we are good at our jobs.  Cheers!

Basely stolen from the ever fabulous Admin Gal (see here: http://administrativemadness.blogspot.com)
Friends, Humor

Romantic. Comedy.

“It must be exhausting to be you!”
“It’s a living.”
– C. and Margot

It is a great thing to have friends who are not just wonderful, but wonderfully interesting.  Take Margot.  We work out together three times a week during which we have deep conversations, rant about our frustrations, swap recipes, plan parties, debate politics, discuss religion, trade books, and do our best to absorb tidbits of life wisdom from each other.

We also spend an inordinate amount of time dodging her would-be suitors.

This + PhD = Margot

Margot has this amazing ability to turn men into stricken puddles of hormones at her feet – without trying in the slightest.  And with good reason!  She’s frighteningly funny, devastatingly intelligent, both pretty and charming, has eyelashes about an inch long that flutter just so, and gorgeous masses of blonde hair.  Boys trip over their own feet to talk to her.  Which, as you may imagine, can make things a bit congested on a jogging track.

Last night a very nice, very eager boy who met her once about a year ago and has been smitten with her ever since, accosted us on our workout.  He seemed harmless enough so we struck up a conversation in which she took the lead, and I hung back and let the boy have a go.  I was too busy chuckling at him to realize that five minutes in she had skillfully maneuvered me between her and her gallant.  When I did catch on and tuned into the conversation, I understood why.
“And this plays into my theory that nothing in life is free.  Take Facebook, it’s a classic philosophical example of the interconnectedness but inherent loneliness of human life!  Did you see my latest status update?”
“No…” Margot said politely, as she couldn’t very well say that she didn’t even know what his last name was, or confirm they were in fact Facebook friends.
“It was about this very theory!  I explained it all!  Of course, this probably stems from my many romantic failures in high school.  This one time…”

A half hour later she threw me a look of desperation so we politely excused ourselves and ended our jog early.

The truly funny thing about this incident for me is that it is, approximately, the 4073rd time it’s happened.

Humor, Office, Secretary, Work

Paper. Work.

“Oh, my giddy aunt!”
– C.

Good.  Bleeding.  Grief.

We are in that inverted paradox that exists on university campuses, the storm before the quiet.  The term just ended and people are scattering like insects, and I am kept busy because lots of them need paperwork done for bar exams, licensing boards, visas, internships, and jobs.  Soon they will all be gone and silence will descend until Fall term – disturbed only by the occasional conference and the heathen invaders those entail.

The great trouble with this need for paperwork, is the propensity people have to leave it all to the last minute.  For example, we have designated times for fingerprinting.  And yet, invariably at this time of year, at 2 o’clock when the sign says we should be done, four or five people fall through the door panting and beg us to make an exception and fingerprint them just this once.  And I inevitably do.  Because I am a nice person, damn it.

But there are some days that this high-minded benevolence mixes with irritation, today was one of them.

This poor girl came in and we spent nearly an hour trying to help her out.  The trouble was that it was awfully difficult to help her, because she’d made a right mess of her job application.  First of all she hadn’t filled out any of the paperwork that needed to be done before I could take her prints, then it transpired that she needed traditional ink fingerprints and not digitally taken ones so I had to beg an officer for help, and then she discovered that she still didn’t have all of the things she needed to send off with said fingerprints anyway!  It turns out she hadn’t actually read through her hiring packet – which, if my job depended on it, I think I would have taken the time to do.

Emotionally stunted, useless lump that I am, I patted her arm awkwardly and promised to do my best to help her as she sobbed all over my counter, but inwardly I shook a schoolmarm-ish finger at her.  “And what did we learn from this, my girl?”

Humor, University

Fancy. Dress.

“Thursday we commence, Friday we convoke.”
– Dad

Thank goodness my academic gown was good for something!  The racket those manufacturers must run makes me weep.  The year I graduated the university changed its policy on renting graduation gear I had to buy my whole kit instead, and I wore it for a grand total of two hours.  Luckily Sav and I are the same-ish height and when she needed a last minute gown, I was thrilled to oblige her with mine!

Academic dress loses some of its oomph on this side of the Atlantic.  In my parents’ hose there’s a great picture of Mum kneeling with her hands between those of the Vice-Chancelor, feudal style, exchanging Latin phrases with her Masters hood trailing down her back.  Much cooler than our polyester blends robes and little to no ceremony.  Although apparently one of J.’s professors taught classes in his academic robes because, in his words, “When you think of all the time and money I spent earning them, this is the most expensive suit of clothes I own.  And I’m going to get my money’s worth!”

No offense to either Mum or this entirely awesome professor…I think J. looks the best in his own get up.  We are officially done with his undergraduate degree!  Good Friday indeed!

Humor, Office, Work

I’m the Doctor

“We do have a zeal for laughter in most situations, give or take a dentist.”
~ Joseph Heller

Accustomed as we are to dealing with characters, you’d think we’d be a bunch of cynic old cranks unperturbed by any but the vilest of persons.  That we would have long ago reached the impossible to amuse, world weary, emotional wasteland of a DMV employee at 4:55pm on a Friday.  That we would have, literally, seen it all.

But let me tell you, pumpkins, when a wizened old man with his pants belted almost up to his ribs marches into your office, slaps his liver spotted hand down on the counter and declares roundly, “Hell, I’m John Smith, and I’m a dentist,” you crack a grin, sit back, and prepare to be entertained.

I'm not sure we can help you. Did you choose the correct police box?

And Doc Smith did not disappoint.  We all sat in rapt attention as he told nearly one dozen jokes in a row (several without a discernible punchline), used racially, sexually, and culturally insensitive language, and told us his life story.  He has been an Air Force reserve colonel and “FBI police officer,” owned his own dental practice (his teeth were more metal than organic, please note) and now owns a few apartment complexes.  Which, in the end, was what brought us to the purpose of his visitation (calling it a mere visit would simply not be adequate).  Apparently some kids who did not live in his buildings were using his parking lot and he wanted it to stop so, enterprising old cook that he was, he took himself to the nearest police station to purchase a car boot.

When we could get a word in between his jokes, we told him we were completely unable to help him, as we could not sell university owned equipment.  The best we could do was google some information for him and wish him the best of luck.  He stayed another ten minutes telling jokes and his adventures as an airline pilot before disappearing.  To parts unknown.

Best customer we’ve had in weeks!

Humor, Money, School, Weekend

Weekend Wrap-up and Coming Week Countdown

“A host is like a general: calamities often reveal his genius.”
– Horace

There is very little that can crush the spirit of Small Dog, minions, but taking one’s car in to be serviced and having what one has long suspected confirmed as true – it needs new tires – is a spiritual and financial blow.  I handed over the credit card with clear eyes and teeth clenched.  It’s awfully hard to keep improving one’s savings when one’s car decides to be disagreeable.

And I absolutely did not mistake cyanide for baking powder. Enjoy!

And then, because my cup was not yet full, we had a couple of people visit from the parish yesterday.  I was just finishing up dicing cheeses and fruits to broil on french bread slices (Palm Sunday pretensions, kittens, because I was in no mood to cook a full meal) when they knocked.  I figured they wouldn’t be staying too long so I’d let the oven heat up while they visited.  Ten minutes later, I smelled burning and realized that I had left my pizza stone in the oven and that the oils in it were beginning to smoke.  The fire alarm went off.  All the windows had to be open.  I joked and laughed the whole thing off, but I was secretly mortified.

That pizza stone (which has given me no end of angst) is now at the bottom of the trash bin.  Cheap pieces of….

J. has only one more final and then we are done (free!) with his undergraduate degree!  Thursday and Friday are his graduation celebrations, and then we throw ourselves full time into grad school preparation – in spite of car related financial irritations.

How was your weekend, my loves?