Got Weed?
Perhaps you should consider investing in a trimmer. A freakin’ goat could do a better job, Lady.
WET SUIT meets METAL DETECTOR
When my husband and I purchased our first home we wanted to make sure we were close to both our families. We choose a lovely little suburban neighborhood, populated en masse, by elderly Italian couples. You can spot these houses immediately from the following:
1) a shrine to the Madonna in their yard under half of a bathtub.
2) their garage is screened off and holds an entire living room set.
3) there is a bocce set somewhere in the yard.
Being the youngest couple on the street, it is important that we learn each of our neighbors names in order to distinguish them. Their names range from “The Hobbits” to “The man we almost killed”. We also have “Army”, “Crazy Stick Lady”, and “Pink Truck Man”. By far though, my favorite neighbor is “Wet Suit Man”.
When the town built the neighborhood back in the early 60’s they planted oak trees in each yard. These trees’ have blossomed and provide lovely shade on each property. Last summer, as my husband and I drove out of our neighborhood, we passed an elderly man who had just had one of these trees cut down after it had been damaged in a wind storm. From first appearances it seemed that he was trying to dig up some large roots.
Except for one thing…he was wearing a WET SUIT. Nope, I kid you not. He was decked out from head to toe in a BodyGlove. AND IT WASN’T EVEN RAINING. None of this registered at first and we drove all the way to the end of the street before my husband and I turned to look at it other and at the same time said “Was he wearing a wetsuit?” Hence forth he has been known as WET SUIT MAN.
A year later that large patch of dirt from where the tree once stood still exists. Weeds grew there during the fall and snow lightly fell during the holidays. Spring came and dandelions sprouted out of this large patch of dirt, but still no grass was grown. We had all but given up hope that this dirt patch would never know any other existence.
That is until last night!!
We headed out as a family to get some ice cream and as we passed, we noticed that Wet Suit man was at it again and this time he had a METAL DETECTOR hovering over the dirt patch. Hoooooray for buried treasure. Listen Lady, this isn’t the movie set for pirates of the Caribbean, the only thing you are going to find in that hole is an old sangwich, some leftover antipasto, and an old dish of gnocchi. Please take your crusty wet suit and NEVER put it on again while you prance around in public.
For your visual pleasure, I have drawn the below representation of the event. Please note that this is only a dramatization and no animals were harmed in the making. 
Excellent Slogan
As I drove home from the office last night, I found myself in front of a large truck and it appeared to have a bumper sticker on it. Normally I don’t pay attention to bumper stickers because I think they are annoying and I detest teenage girls who put hundreds of bumper stickers on the back of their car like it’s a canvas of rebellion. Listen Lady, it’s not an f’in art project, it’s a vehicle, don’t mutilate it. And then there are the parents who put the “my kid is an honor student at…”. I’m pretty sure there are other, more effective ways to brag about your kid than posting it on the ass of your hoopty. But anyways, I digress.
I noticed though that it wasn’t a bumper sticker, but rather seemed to be a company logo. Intrigued, I got a little closer and this is the logo I saw:
Go ahead. Laugh. You know you want to. I giggled all the way home.
The name of the company is ridiculous but the slogan…oh, that is priceless. Quite Catchy. Just rolls off the tongue. I wish I worked for that Marketing Team cause they must have a shitload of ideas. HA
Uvula vs. the Supreme Court of the United States
On July 3rd we head down to my in-laws cottage for fireworks and a ring of fire on the lake. (Yep, we celebrate July 4th on the 3rd, don’t hate). We even let our 8 month daughter hold a bottle rocket and launch it. Don’t worry…she had on gloves. Once the last firework had exploded in the night sky it was time to pack up the little engine that could and head home. Now the cottage is about 45 minutes away and we have to get through traffic to head home, so there was a little drive ahead of us.
This called for some sort of entertainment! Pole-dancing and ghost-riding-the-whip were ruled out and in the end a more low-key form of entertainment was chosen and we stumbled upon the topic of tonsils. Little did I know this would turn into another anatomy lesson, complete with illustrated diagrams.
Our friend quickly declared that her tonsils had been removed as a child. She was all, “I had my tonsils removed so I don’t have a hangy ball”. (For those of you who require a more anatomically correct term, the hangy ball is also known as the Uvula). Confusion spread across my tired face as it registered what she said. I was all “listen lady, the Uvula is not the same thing as your tonsils”. Adamant as a stubborn donkey, she insisted that I was wrong. Tonsils were clearly the thing hanging in the back of your throat. After quite the debate, I needed closure. So we pulled out the trusty iphone and did a little wiki search.
Low and behold:
The hangy ball IS NOT the tonsils. Now, I’m not sure about others, but if it’s on the wiki then it must be true. And if the wiki has a picture then it’s a pretty much an open and shut case; a pull up your panties and head home kind of night.
Now, this is not the first anatomy class that I’ve given and you would think that people would eventually believe that I knew a thing or two about physiology. So there I am… 11:45 at night, shoved between an infant car seat and my uvula-less friend, and I’m lighting up the back of her throat with a LED flashlight. This is the point where she tried to point a camera into her mouth and take a picture as though there was still some sort of disbelief.
Sometimes I just give up.