Instead of writing a big long post about my weekend in Chicago, I thought I'd sum it up on post-its!
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
Trolls, Leprechauns, and Other mystical creatures
A good friend of mine is a nurse at the hospital. She has a 20 year old son, who is challenged. A couple of days ago, she was in the middle of a 12 hour shift when he called her.
"Mama! Mama! I caught a troll! I did! I saw him, and I caught him, and I got a troll."
Troll? What on earth is he talking about? "Okay baby, you got a troll. I have to work now. Love you!" And hangs up.
A couple hours later he calls back.
"Mama! I got my troll!"
She has patients and is running around and super busy. "Yay! Okay baby, you have fun! Mommy has to go to work now."
The calls continue here and there for the remainder of her shift. She was so busy and while a little confused, thought nothing of it.
She finally got off work and returned home to her son. She wasn't in the house 5 minutes when she heard a knocking coming from down the hall. She looked at her son curiously, who repeated for the billionth time,
"I got a troll!"
Panicked now, she runs down the hallway to find the knocking coming from a closet that had been barracaded shut. She opened the door slowly and peered around the edge.
There stood the meter maid.
Who happens to be a little person.
Mortified, she realized that the poor man had been locked in her closet all day long. And while understanding, was NOT happy about it.
**After I stopped laughing and changed into clean underwear from having peed my pants, all I could think was, that I would love to be a fly on the wall when he tells his boss why he only read one meter that day.**
Happy Friday!
"Mama! Mama! I caught a troll! I did! I saw him, and I caught him, and I got a troll."
Troll? What on earth is he talking about? "Okay baby, you got a troll. I have to work now. Love you!" And hangs up.
A couple hours later he calls back.
"Mama! I got my troll!"
She has patients and is running around and super busy. "Yay! Okay baby, you have fun! Mommy has to go to work now."
The calls continue here and there for the remainder of her shift. She was so busy and while a little confused, thought nothing of it.
She finally got off work and returned home to her son. She wasn't in the house 5 minutes when she heard a knocking coming from down the hall. She looked at her son curiously, who repeated for the billionth time,
"I got a troll!"
Panicked now, she runs down the hallway to find the knocking coming from a closet that had been barracaded shut. She opened the door slowly and peered around the edge.
There stood the meter maid.
Who happens to be a little person.
Mortified, she realized that the poor man had been locked in her closet all day long. And while understanding, was NOT happy about it.
**After I stopped laughing and changed into clean underwear from having peed my pants, all I could think was, that I would love to be a fly on the wall when he tells his boss why he only read one meter that day.**
Happy Friday!
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Laundry Day
Oh, how I loathe laundry. It is a never-ending headache that no amount of lavender Downey will soothe. I generally prefer to put it off until it is absolutely necessary because every stitch of clothing I own is in the basket. I would happily go without, but I work in a hospital and they tend to get pissy if people show up naked. Sheesh.
I have gone through all of my normal undergarments. Then my back-ups. I have now officially moved on to the absolute last resorts. So this morning, under my hot boots and cute outfit, is a magenta bra, unmatching socks, and bright green underwear that read, "I only ride the BIG waves", across the ass (don't judge me, they were a gift).
And this morning as I was driving in, all I could think was, "please GOD don't let me get in an accident."
Because having to explain that to my co-workers makes me want to throw up a little.
Okay, a lot.
I have gone through all of my normal undergarments. Then my back-ups. I have now officially moved on to the absolute last resorts. So this morning, under my hot boots and cute outfit, is a magenta bra, unmatching socks, and bright green underwear that read, "I only ride the BIG waves", across the ass (don't judge me, they were a gift).
And this morning as I was driving in, all I could think was, "please GOD don't let me get in an accident."
Because having to explain that to my co-workers makes me want to throw up a little.
Okay, a lot.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Just call me Pima
I am the queen of nicknames.
Alice, Webster, Betty, Miss Piggy, Sandgnat, and the list goes on and on. One of my personal favorites:
Snowflake.
Aww...how sweet. Nope, my husband came up with it because he could call me a 'flake' in front of people without getting in trouble. Yup, that's my other half. Don't you just want to steal him away???
I thought after that we couldn't get much lower. Oh, was I wrong. So, so wrong.
He called my office and used pain-in-my-ass as a middle name when asking for me.
As in Demi-pain-in-my-ass-Moore. Not that I look anything like Demi Moore, just using her as an example. Though I *would* love to have her body.
I digress...
One of the girls (who had way too much time on her hands) was doodling and noticed that the letters spelled PIMA (pee-ma). And the rest was history.
So, from now don't bother with my real name. Just call me Pima.
Catchy, don't ya think?
Alice, Webster, Betty, Miss Piggy, Sandgnat, and the list goes on and on. One of my personal favorites:
Snowflake.
Aww...how sweet. Nope, my husband came up with it because he could call me a 'flake' in front of people without getting in trouble. Yup, that's my other half. Don't you just want to steal him away???
I thought after that we couldn't get much lower. Oh, was I wrong. So, so wrong.
He called my office and used pain-in-my-ass as a middle name when asking for me.
As in Demi-pain-in-my-ass-Moore. Not that I look anything like Demi Moore, just using her as an example. Though I *would* love to have her body.
I digress...
One of the girls (who had way too much time on her hands) was doodling and noticed that the letters spelled PIMA (pee-ma). And the rest was history.
So, from now don't bother with my real name. Just call me Pima.
Catchy, don't ya think?
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Nothing like a 4 year old to tell it like it is
I got my ass kicked by J's 4 year old son on Friday night.
On the wii.
Playing bowling.
I wasfinally out of last place just starting to get into a groove when he looked and me and said "you're a LOSER!" while making the 'L' on his forehead.
Ouch.
Since he clearly won that round of verbal sparring, I did the next best thing.
I tickled him until he cried 'uncle'.
Because that's they way I roll.
On the wii.
Playing bowling.
I was
Ouch.
Since he clearly won that round of verbal sparring, I did the next best thing.
I tickled him until he cried 'uncle'.
Because that's they way I roll.
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