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Posts Tagged ‘life’


Instead of writing, I’m writing a blog post about cleaning out the closet in my office.

First thing, the closet is filled with empty containers. No wonder I don’t have room for anything in here.  I next encountered three alarm clocks still in boxes, funny since I’m always late.

Just found my Gramms’ old photo album perfect distraction. I can flip through these for a while. Ah, my eyes! There’s a picture of my Gramms in her industrial brassiere and a man’s tie around her neck drinking whiskey from the bottle. No, it wasn’t taken yesterday, she looks about twenty. I see what Gramps was attracted to, but I wonder who’s taking the pciture?

Four beanie babies I’ll set those aside for the kidlings.

Cloth grocery bags I never take to the grocery store. Perfect for storing the twenty plus empty containers.

Something in a box from IKEA called Rationell. Don’t know what it is. The only picture on the box is of a man throwing away trash. Those Swedes are so neat. Opened it. Put it together. Still don’t know what it is. I’m using it to hold notebooks on my desk.

Lots of trash, extra wrapping paper. Huge matted balls of cables for who knows what. Pictures that were never hung.

Oh dang it, Blind Dog made off with one of the beanie babies. Think it was a grey dog. Too late, Blind Dog’s chewed the nose off.

My apologies to Blockbuster. Apparently you didn’t lose that movie several years ago. My bad.

That’s about it. Wait somethings in the very back. Okay, no clue how this got back there. Tucked in the very back behind the vacuum and several large pictures is a lasso, a green lasso.  I have absolutely no idea where that could have come from.

Check your closets. If you find a stray cowboy, send him round for his lasso.

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I couldn’t find my jeans. I was in a hurry since I had a “meeting” and waited till the last minute to get ready. Story of my life.

I raced to the laundry room, maybe my jeans were in there. My son was home doing his laundry. I glanced at the piles of clean and folded laundry. (He’s way too neat. Didn’t get it from me.)

“Are my jeans in here somewhere?”

He pulled a load from the dryer. “Here, these are your.”

There on top were my jeans. I grabbed them figuring I didn’t have time to handle the whole load right then. Besides if I leave them he’ll put them away later.

“Hey,” his voice stopped me, “take the whole load, they’re all yours.”

“You sound just like my mother.” I said, grabbing the bundle of clothes, not meaning this as a compliment.

To which my son replied, “Funny, you sound just like mine.”

 

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people windy picnic

Every morning my obnoxious alarm goes off. Blinded by daylight, I slap it a couple of times and stumble to the kitchen. I stand in front of the open refrigerator door, drink milk straight from the carton, and grab a hard boiled egg.

I love cold hard boiled eggs so I make them on Sunday afternoon and put them in a container ready for the week. It adds to my mindless routine. I love mindless in the morning.

But one day it was different. Saturday morning, my siblings decided to get together. Early. Really early. They know I don’t do early, especially not on Saturday. Early Saturday in Deidra time means I’ll be 2 hours late. Whatever time you set.

To help me with this, they decided to meet at my house and for my convenience, they let themselves in. They’re really thoughtful that way.

An issue arose during the early morning gathering which has forced me to issue the following warning.

To the person who replaced my boiled egg with a frozen egg,

I’m narrowing the suspect pool. The noose is tightening. Feel my breath on the back of your neck as I close in. In the words of the immortal wicked witch of Oz.

“I will get you and your little dog too.”

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I’ve been a bit under the weather. The doctor prescribed me a cough medicine with codeine.

Wrapped in a warm blanket snuggle into the depths of the sofa, the darkness had settled and with it a drowsy drugged feeling. I hadn’t coughed in almost an hour.

The light from the television pushing just enough light into the room to make out the patches on Grandma’s old quilt.

Soft elevator music played in the background while a man in the lobby of a large office building buffed the floor. A comforting fog moved into my mind.

What was the name of this movie? My mind drifted like a cloud.

A deafening crash echoed through the room as a body slams on top of a truck on the screen in front of me.

My chest was heaving my body tense, I was hardly able to process what just happened. I looked around at the people watching TV with me. They were staring at me with open mouthed amazement.

“Did I scream out loud?”

“Yeah,” my roomie replied.

I screamed like I have never screamed before. Hollywood pays people for this kind of high pitched, gut wrenching scream of terror. I tell you this so that you may learn a lesson from it. If you are taking cough medicine with codeine, do not watch a movie called Devil. I had to pray myself to sleep last night.

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After hours of shopping, I was trying on slacks in a brightly lit dressing room. Finally, I found a pair that fit perfectly.  Tight enough in the right places and loose in others.

When I stepped out of the dressing room to show my friend, she said, “You have the ass that could rule the world.”

Maybe I could rule the world. I seriously considered her statement before realizing there are already enough asses ruling out there now.

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109

Jim was a nuclear physicist, a brilliant man. Much to his own detriment, he didn’t know when to stop thinking.

He had been through a series of interviews. The job was basically his. All he had to do was pass a drug screening. I don’t know if they said drug test or not. I’m assuming not, they must have been vague.

The company had an on-site clinic where the test was performed.

So, Jim comes toddling in. The tech hands him a cup and tells him to return the sample to her desk.

Does Jim think “They want to see if I use drugs.”?

No.

He thinks “It’s a nuclear facility. They want to take a baseline reading now so they can measure the affects of potential radiation exposure over time.”

So instead of urine, he gives them a sperm sample. He is still trying to figure out why he didn’t get the job.

Can you imagine the technician’s reaction when a cup of sperm lands on her desk?

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My head was thumping. I was having trouble thinking.

Oh God!

I shot straight up, realizing the lump in the bed next to me was alive and possibly awake. A sliver of light broke through the darkened hotel room.

Minutes ticked by while my mind raced to remember.

Why was I in a hotel room? Convention, yeah, we were at a convention. Who was we? Me and my three closest friends.

A late night of shots and gambling left me hazy as to the details. The other three lumps began stirring. Three heads started popping up, then burrowing back into their pillows and back up again. If I had a mallet I could have played whack-a-mole.

I flipped on the lamp.

Holy mackerel!

I fell asleep with my friends in the room and woke up with three trolls instead. These women were able to completely change the shape and color of their features.

I have a heart-shaped birthmark on my cheek. I like to tell young tattooed people it started as a little heart by my eye. But by the time I’m eighty it’ll have fallen to my boob and look like an arrow pointing straight to hell.  I digress.

That mark is always there no matter how much stuff I try to cover it with.  I feel like a throw back to the Jurassic period.

I was on my knees praying to Maybelline to save me.

Holy Sephora! How’d they do that Cover Girl?

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