I have an iPhone.
( If you don’t watch Game of Thrones? Never mind)
And with the iPhone comes Apple news, which I check from time to time for breaking stories.
And may I just say…. what’s passing for news these days is beyond ridiculous.
Roll over Edward R. Murrow, it’s a Kardashian filled world now.
And they want everyone to see their butts.
This picture was in my news feed.
Why? I have no idea.
But it made me realize…
Damn.
I’ve been doing Sundays wrong for years.
As I was strolling the local hardware store the other day, I came across an item that was begging to be blogged about.
(Yes, I really heard it begging… so now I have to share.)
‘SnotTape.
Let that sink in a moment.
And then visualize some over paid ad exec on Madison Avenue yelling, “Eureka! That new product? Let’s name it after snot!”
I wasn’t sure where… or why they came up with that name, until I said it out loud a few times and realized it’s a contraction for “it’s not tape”.
Which, of course it is.
It’s tape.
So wth?
And because I’m a dedicated blogger, I did some research… which lead me to the heretofore unknown Professional Painting Contractors Forum. (Oh, the things I do for my readers)
While I agreed with this commenter’s review…
It was the next two responses that made me want to hire these contractors no matter what they charge.
Bravo Professional Painting Contractors Forum.
I agree.
But Snittens?
Now there’s a product worth having.
You’re welcome.
We all hate spell check, I get it.
But sometimes it makes me laugh….
And laugh hard.
Witness this morning when I was cruising WordPress with my iPhone and commenting on a post.
This post to be exact.
The author is funny as Hell, and as I was replying about her desire to send her cat and dog (who constantly try to trip her) to Fuckoffistan…
Spell check came up with this :
What?
You mean there really is a Fuckoffistan?
And I was spelling it incorrectly?
Damn.
You really do learn something new everyday.
Yes.
I admit to drinking the occasional Coca Cola.
And yes.
I know it’s not healthy….
Alright, that’s disturbing.
But I probably only drink one or two a month, like dessert.
It’s sugary enough to satisfy my sweet tooth…. and hey.
If it can clean the corrosion off a car battery? It can do the same to my colon. Everybody wins.
I’m not going to get into the Coke vs Pepsi debate…
Because there’s really only one acceptable way to drink Pepsi.
And while I do find Cherry Coke acceptable now and then?
I’ve never tasted another flavor I could tolerate and have to wonder why they keep putting new ones on the market.
It’s Coke.
It has 7,000 tablespoons of sugar per ounce and two cans will put you into diabetic coma. I get it. Now leave it alone and stop trying to invent new ways for us to drink it.
(Please note this does not stop me from trying every single one. Hope springs eternal.)
The latest roll out?
Orange vanilla.
I had visions of a Creamsicle Coke!
It works for martinis… why not Coke.
How bad could it be?
Answer-
Bad.
Very, very bad.
Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.
Pour it directly on your corroded car battery (or filthy toilet) and be done with it.
I wouldn’t have thought it possible to screw up orange vanilla anything, but they did.
Give it a wide berth on the grocery aisle. Tasting like radioactive waste might not be a coincidence…
It’s that bad.
We love trying new restaurants and supporting small local businesses, so when Urban Element opened?
We were all in.
Do you love me?
Am I supposed to love you?
I just walked in…
Stop trying so hard.
The new trend in restaurant decor in Maine seems to be minimalist rustic. While I’m fine with barn boards and a lack of clutter….
The chairs that are popping up everywhere seriously make me want to scream.
They’re metal, with small seats and side bars that painfully pin you in place. Definitely not for the amply hipped who walk amongst us.
If the plan is to get you in and out quickly?
These rustic torture devices do the trick.
It was Sunday afternoon at 2:00. And a couple of Happy Time Fizz cocktails made me quite happy indeed….
But here’s another trend that continues to tick me off.
Brunch.
I understand, it’s the weekend. You don’t get up early, and you want to eat breakfast late. Fine.
But it’s 2:00pm people! If you just recently rolled out of bed? You’re a teenage stoner sleeping one off and can’t afford these prices anyway.
To me, 2:00pm means lunch…even on Sunday. I had eaten breakfast 7 hours ago and didn’t feel the need to repeat the process.
The specials? All breakfast. The menu? 99% breakfast with one exception. The fried haddock sandwich.
Great.
Bring it…
They brought it..
But damn.
I’ve had thicker fish sandwiches at McDonalds and I wasn’t even sure that was fish.
Mentally tallying up the reasons we weren’t apt to go back to this restaurant, I did what any normal (still rather hungry from lack of fish) girl would do.
I drowned my sorrows in flourless chocolate torte.
That’s my kind of math.
I posted about the 50th anniversary Woodstock concert the other day…
How my husband went to the original, and left.
How I was toddling around the backyard waiting to grow up and deride him mercilessly for it.
This Woodstock anniversary concert will never capture the spirit of the first.
It can’t.
Those days are gone, and so are the hippies.
To be honest, there isn’t much peace and brotherhood left either.
So if you experienced the original or like me, just wished you’d been old enough to….
Here’s an article I found that sums it up pretty well:
No offense but it wasn’t memorable. My brother said Green Day performed there or something.
I mean, to be honest, there was 1 toilet per 833 people. Also, two people died. One got ran over by a tractor, the other was a drug overdose, sooo yeah.
My husband recently had a birthday.
Yes.
I’m that kind of wife as well, but I digress.
Along with some very nice, serious gifts…
I ordered him something from Amazon.
The box it came in was rather disappointing.
But nothing could dampen the sheer joy I felt at giving him….
A rock.
Yes, Cindy.
I did.
I bought him a rock…
A rock!
Or rather, a solid metal rock replica.
Because after our recent vacation in Arizona, and all the amazing rocks we saw out there… ( did I tell you about that? I seem to remember some subtle mentioning of rocks) …. I had to present my beloved with his very own rock (replica).
And may I just say?
Bravo Amazon.
I don’t know what kind of algorithm you’re running, but as I was searching the mystery/thriller book section?
You recommended a rock.
Talk about knowing your audience.
And so am I.
I never knew Jeff Bezos had time to read my blog.
As promised.
Yes, we’re really doing this.
Chapter 1.
Having had many one sided chicken conversations, I was looking forward to this.
Chicken cheerleaders…
Who knew?
Apparently Animal Planet, who features them in the annual Puppy Bowl.
Though they do need to work on their pom pom skills a bit.
And here I thought the only variety of peeps worth noting came at Easter.
Tidbitting?
I love learning new words.
While I’ve had various roosters chase me over the years, I never once thought to challenge them to a dance off.
But clearly, they’ve got moves.
So it’s official… my spirit animal is a chicken.
I love to sunbathe as well.
*Note to self – do not Google sunbathing chicken or you will find one on the menu of a restaurant in Japan, complete with dipping sauce and white bread beach chair.*
This is educational stuff!
So the next time you hear a chicken say Buh-dup?
I expect you to politely return the greeting…. with a silent prayer of thanks to me for the translation.
Why yes.
Yes, I am.
I can break anything.
Really. It’s one of my lesser known talents.
You know those cheap Corelle bowls?
The ones you can’t kill?
Well…
I didn’t even have to put it on the stovetop or broiler.
Yay me.
In other news, it snowed.
Again.
To which people in Maine replied….
A simple reminder that we’ve had enough frigid blasts of white stuff followed by 52 degree days and melting.
Of course, the melting does allow us to participate in the annual derby.
The pothole fishing derby.
Loads of fun for the entire family….
But not your car.
Have you ever had one of those days when all the signs were pointing somewhere?
Hopefully it’s not there.
I had one of those days last week.
It started when I checked the weather forecast.
Fair enough.
We were out of beer.
And on my way to the grocery store?
Okay, I get it.
Corporate America wants in on everything lately.
But then..
The car that pulled in next to me at the store?
And while not all signs are clear…
I’m guessing the universe did not wish me to remain sober that day.
And one should never argue with the universe.
Or my husband, who brought home an interesting wine that night.
What’s a girl to do?
River's world..... 