Friday, June 6, 2014

Which Came First? The Chicken Wire or The Garden?

So, I ask you, constant reader, (or as constant as you could possibly be, considering the fact that I post almost as often as Tom Cruise puts out a good movie).....Once again, I digress..... So I ask you constant reader.......Why is the cheap, 16 inch high, wire fencing designed to protect the average man's garden called "CHICKEN WIRE"? Especially when we come home to find a chicken (okay....not a random chicken in a major city, but one of our neighbor's chickens) ....(Why, yes, yes, we do have neighbors with chickens.....why do you ask?).... Anyway, We, (the Mountain Man and I), come home to find a chicken trapped in our garden.....dining on our seedlings and pre-pubescent plants...INSIDE THE CHICKEN WIRE PERIMETER! HELLO? What good is it to have a CHICKEN WIRE perimeter if the chickens can permeate it? Wait, it gets better....(I think...depending on if you side with the Mountain Man or the Chicken).....And so the Mountain Man storms out to our anti-chicken enclosed garden to rid us of the beast...... (sorry, survivalist readers, there was no gun: hand held or otherwise involved) ......Any how, And so my knight in shining armor (dirty khaki shorts, truth be told, and an ink pen stain on his new shirt) storms the pest-proof garden....Which, by the way? Cornered chickens do NOT take well to grown (ok, questionable) but let's go with grown men...chasing them.....the poor chicken couldn't find its way out, nor could the Mountain Man catch the wild beast! (my hero, you say? Meh, maybe not so much!)... End result? Chicken scared to death managed to hop over protective garden fencing (Read: CHICKEN WIRE)...which is how the little f@cker entered the garden in the first place! Lesson to be learned? Chicken Wire does not neccesarily mean it can keep out chickens (But? Unintended side effect? It CAN raise the blood pressure of a certain Mountain Man!) And another side-effect? Mysuestories is kept in stitches! Chickens? You are safe on Hallowed MYSUESTORIES land!

Friday, May 23, 2014

Hail And Oats

Note to self: When setting up mouse traps to nail the little m@ther-fracking moles who are making Swiss cheese out of the backyard with all their intricate underground tunnels? One should remember to put the peanut butter (and oats----did you know moles like oats, constant reader? Well, neither did I...but apparently they do.........I can't imagine where they find oats on their own....perhaps there is a 24 hour Wild By N@ture knockoff convenience store run by moles who work 18 hour shifts and sleep in the back of said store)...Anyway, I digress...AGAIN...imagine that..... Anyway........one (and when I say "one", I mean mysuestories)...one should put the peanut butter and oats on the snap traps BEFORE you set the device. Just saying........ Having those little traps snapping all over the kitchen as ONE attempts to bait them.....peanut butter flying and oats falling like little stones of hail (ok, ok, so they were very quiet little oat flakes...give me a little leeway here....) ....Where was I? Oh, right ...peanut butter and huge oat meteors everywhere....... This COULD quite possibly be hilarious! (trust me on this one...It WAS hilarious).....Then again? I think we all know I have a pretty low tolerance for humor! I have (and will again) laugh at just about everything! Mysuestories 0 Moles 1 Sigh.....

Thursday, May 22, 2014

this situation absolutely requires a really futile and stupid gesture be done on somebody's part

Someone HAS to ask the question, so I guess it will have to be mysuestories.......reputation be d@mned! Why the h#ll do college dorm room beds have to be "extra long twin" sized? (Which, by the way? Only adds an additional 4.7 inches to a "standard" twin sized bed)......Why, yes, dear reader, I DID research, AND measure....thank you for asking! The dorm room is the ONLY place you will ever have (and therefore need to special order proper fitting sheets) the extra long twin size bed...... I am thinking it is all about getting you to spend an additional $60. per sheet set that only comes in sets of TWO!!!!!!! (IE: $120!).....Which? Coincidentally? Can be conveniently ordered from the college store in advance....Two complete sheet sets/4 pillow cases/ 1 reversible extra long twin comforter/ mattress cover /thermal blanket/2 pillows/ 4 towels/4 wash cloths/ and 2 bath sheets....all in your (read: the gamester's) choice of patterns. (We are now conveniently up to $220 (plus tax (but wait...There is FREE SHIPPING).All this, so that one helicopter mom (without a landing pad, ie: mysuestories ) can sleep well knowing that her college-bound child ....the same one who does NOT KNOW what stationery is..(see previous post!)....will not be sleeping short-sheeted.... ...(And? To be perfectly honest? We ALL know the gamester ( and most other college bound young men) Will NEVER use that second set of extra long twin sized sheets--only sold in sets of two- because most colleges frown upon doting mothers arriving on campus every other week to change their bed sheets! (Not to mention the frowns/scowls/eye-rolling/and otherwise unhappy facial features of the actual son/child/student..when mommy lands on the college heliport bi-weekly!) Again? Need I mention? This IS the same child/man-child/about to be living on his own-college bound son...that refuses to adjust (or pick up off the trash -laden floor of his current bedroom) the 800 thread count fitted sheets I have previously procured for his NOT AN EXTRA LONG TWIN SIZED BED! The self-proclaimed top sheet? (Again sent in sets of two!) May as well be used for lettering on fraternity flags........ And assuming he DOES actually change these interchangeable/otherwise useless sheets occasionally ? What the heck am I supposed to do with them after he graduates ...Ok...so I am assuming a LOT right now!? Do I just suck it up big time and order an extra long twin sized bed that just may go in what we now call the "previous bedrooms of the children we adore and love", yet hope they never, ever, have to move back into? Assuming, of course, that all future house-guests (that does NOT mean YOU, current children!!!) will be single (re: twin size), and of lengthy stature (ok, that rules out you, Burke!) I am hereby calling all fans/mysuestories fanatics(all two of you)/and other rebels of the internetz...WE THE PEOPLE DEMAND NORMAL SIZE BEDDING FOR OUR OFF SPRING THAT WE ENTRUST TO YOUR CARE!!!! Either that, or they ..meaning the big-buck sucking college----should include the cost of extra long twin bedding as just one more addition to the already really, really long list of things included in tuition costs (besides actual education! ) In the slightly adapted words of John Belushi..."Who's with me?!!!!" t? Over? Did you say "over"? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no! Otter: Germans? Boon: Forget it. He's rolling. Bluto: And it ain't over now. 'Cause when the goin' gets tough . . . the tough get goin'! Who's with me? Let's go! C'mon! [He runs out of the room screaming but then returns.] Bluto: What the fuck happened to the Delta I used to know? Where's the spirit? Where's the guts, huh?! This could be the greatest night of our lives, but you're gonna let it be the worst! "Ooh, we're afraid to go with you Bluto, we might get in trouble." Well, JUST KISS MY ASS FROM NOW ON!!! Not me! I'm not gonna take this! Wormer, he's a dead man! Marmalard, DEAD! Niedermeyer— Otter: Dead! Bluto's right. Psychotic, but absolutely right. [Otter stands up.] We gotta take these bastards. Now, we could fight 'em with conventional weapons. That could take years and cost millions of lives. Oh no. No, in this case, I think we have to go all out. I think that this situation absolutely requires a really futile and stupid gesture be done on somebody's part...... Bluto: And we're just the guys to do it. [Boon and D-Day stand.] Boon: Let's do it. Bluto: Let's do it! [Everybody cheers and starts running out of the room, with Bluto still standing there.] Bluto: Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!

Saturday, May 17, 2014

Steve Jobs, You Are Killing Us....Ironically? Post-humously!

So the gamester has chosen a college for fall, (and, yes constant reader, it is far, far away!) and we are going over the list of necessities he will need for dorm life that the school had so courteously sent us.......After "extra-long sheets" and before "shower sandals", on the list is "stamps, envelopes, and stationery".......To which my soon to be high school graduated son turns to me and says, (AND I SH!T YOU NOT)...he says, "Stationery? What is that?" Thank you, technology, for erasing the art of letter writing......... And can someone please tell Webster that the word stationery can now be replaced by lol in the next dictionary edition?

Saturday, July 6, 2013

Skinny Margaritas, Anyone?

So, here at mysuestories manor, I have been lucky enough to find myself self-employed, and happily getting paid to do things I really enjoy doing......Without getting in to too much detail....(which, you, constant reader, know I am incapable of doing!).......I get paid A LOT of money ----(Yes, that's right...I just posted on the internet that I get paid A LOT of money.....It's okay, faithful follower....I also pay A LOT of taxes on said earnings---hey, I am nothing, if not law abiding) to perform various duties for some VERY generous clients.. .... (and no, mountain man, I am NOT pimping myself out...Although I suspect the pay (AND the taxes ) might be quite a bit higher)...... What I DO perform are some daily duties that my clients (again, my VERY generous clients) would rather not do themselves.........And again, dear reader, because I DO know my audience, minds out of the gutter...... Anyway, one such chore (haha) I get over paid for perform...is that I send one particular client off to work each morning with a plastic water bottle filled with freshly squeezed lemon water, with a healthy dose of carb fighting supplement added to it. So, on this particular morning, I notice that said client had not drank her veggie juice for lunch the previous day (said drink consisting of kale, beets, carrots, sweet potato, etc....hey, I don't drink them, I just make them!)...So I added the previous day's juice to her lunch bag. I also noticed a plastic water bottle still sitting in the fridge. Apparently? She didn't drink her water the previous day either......Ok...Easy morning for mysuestories.... I added the carb fighting supplement to the container and packed it in with her lunch..... Fast forward four hours.........I get a phone call from above mentioned client....she was having her lunch (ok, she was having a juice drink... which in some circles constitutes lunch)...and she had just taken a swig (or maybe it was a gulp) from the plastic water bottle that SHOULD have contained lemon water and carb fighters.....Turns out? That plastic water bottle in the fridge? was filled with margaritas from her husband's concert-going nite the previous evening..... That's right....I sent a highly respected professional to work with a pitcher of margaritas! Oops.......Hey, at least I added the carb fighter supplement.....That should make them skinny margaritas, no? If you are gonna drink alcohol at work, at least work on the fat-fighting while you are doing it...... This is probably why they never ask me to cook with wine...or sherry, or vodka.....sigh

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

You Can't Work It If You Ain't Got It

I'm at the gym (which, yeah, is a miracle in of itself - and if Jesus could turn water into wine, you would think he could make a chocolate bar that makes you lose weight- I mean, Jesus, Jesus! No wonder you're losing throngs to the virgins-in-the-afterlife group!)

Back to mysuestories at the gym... So, I'm at the gym, and I am constantly awed by these, um, super people. If you have ever made the decision to torture yourself at a health club, I'm sure you've seen them, too. On the outside, they look like your average, every day, fellow human (except that they're usually 40 lbs underweight if female- 60 pounds of muscle overweight if male)--- but put them in their natural habitat; IE: the fitness center- and they stand out like a Jersey Housewife in a dollar store.

That's right...I'm talking about super-workout girl. You know her. She's rocking the cute little matching yoga pants and tankini top that cost more than my entire membership for a year. Or maybe you've met her man, Mr. I Lift Things Up and Put Them Down- the guy with the sixty inch neck supporting one head and the two inch steroid atrophied penis --nevermind--- you
know who I'm talking about!

It's bad enough that I have to drag myself to the d@mned gym in the first place, in my ratty sweat pants and stained tee shirt (Which? Brand new was a great maternity outfit only 20 years ago!--I'm thrifty, peeps, not poor.....or at least that's my story, and I'm sticking to it).

I jump on a treadmill in a line of soldier-like treadmills lined up thisclose together, facing nothing but the lower level of the gym and six flat screen TVs that seem to air nothing but CNN - and yeah, I like my news, but how much Wolf can one person possibly take for the love of God- so there's not a whole lot of entertainment....(that is-- if you're not including me trying to walk on a moving surface-- now that? That's entertainment).

So I people watch. For forty five grueling boring minutes (ooh, and don't forget the mandatory five minute slow down!) I watch. I watch Gym Rat Girl and Juice Boy. I take little not-so- sly peeks at your speed and your time and definitely your weight on your workout screen. (and, you-know-I-know that you took ten pounds off your weight- That's okay...I took off 20- easiest weight I ever lost).
But do you know what the most amazing part of my treatment for potato chip and onion dip addiction is? While I am on that treadmill burning away all those late night bon bons and cookie dough ice cream sundaes? It's that these children of the gym, these work out aficiondos....these hamsters whose little rat legs were just made for running in one place---they are talking while they are working out.

I know. Astonishing, isn't it? They are talking. On a phone. To each other. To themselves. To their gym equipment.

I don't know how they do it. I can barely walk on the d@mned treadmill without tangling my feet- and that's while holding on to the side bars for dear life. But not them. They answer calls, send texts, maybe even they're having sext....and hooray for them if they are....But do they have to do it while exercising? Jeez....I can barely breathe and walk..I mean, here I am, sweating like a whore in church on Sunday, and they are not even missing a beat of whatever little phone app they're playing with.


Although, after months of studying and watching (okay, okay, constant reader-) after days of studying and watching (Blogging with Integrity-yeah yeah yeah)....I took a page from the guy who yells at his treadmill as if it's a new recruit in this man's army!!!

I find myself silently encouraging my own treadmill along....urging it to go faster (the time clock, NOT the speed!), come on, baby, just ten more minutes...you can do it, you big hunk of steel....just make that little clock tick faster, faster, you can do it, little treadmill, just skip a few minutes on the old clock there.. faster, faster....

Yeah. And then I realized. I was trying to talk the treadmill into finishing prematurely. Like a 16 year old boy in the back seat of a 1966 mustard colored Chevy Nova on Band Night at the OBI South----

Really, mysuestories? Taking advantage of fitness equipment? Is this what our love of cheese has done to us?

I felt so dirty. And to make it worse? He didn't finish any sooner than any other time his clock was set for 45 minutes. In fact? I think the cool down was shorter than normal.

Sigh. I guess it wasn't good for him either.

Maybe tomorrow I'll come on to the stationary bicycles. That should make 'em sweat!

What's that, constant reader? Why yes, I did own a 1966 mustard colored Chevy Nova. Why do you ask?