Friday, March 19, 2010

I'd Give My First Born's Eye Teeth for a Laugh Here

He is approaching his nineteenth year, our three-toed sloth. And with age, come certain rites of passage. (And many a sleepless night for mysuestories-but this is not about me ....Did I just write that, oh constant reader? Shit.....I am losing it).

Anyway, our sloth is indeed approaching adulthood (or prison...not all the cards are in just yet)....And this impending maturity reared its ugly head yet again yesterday. Yesterday? The sloth had a dental appointment. When told that either the mountain man or I would be home to take him, he replied that he would, in fact, drive himself without either of us in attendance. I asked if he was sure he wanted to go alone. I have "child letting go" issues (There. I said it, mountain man. Now. Shut. Up.) The sloth assured me I was no longer needed for such mundane tasks (Sob.)

I explained to the sloth that all he needed to do was show up on time. All insurance related information was on file, no co-payment required.

This dentist, I should explain, is the same dentist we have used as a family since the sloth's fangs first appeared some 18 years prior. Twice annually, this same dentist has x-rayed, examined, and cleaned the sloth's pearly whites. This dentist has a larger film collection of my children at this point in time than I do. Suffice it to say, sloth had to reason to be uncomfortable handling this appointment.

Three minutes before said appointment was to commence, I get a phone call. It was the sloth.
"Mysuestories, ' (why yes, I do make my children call me by my virtual moniker....Doesn't everybody?), "mysuestories, do I need ID to show them at the dental office so that they will know it is me?"

Really, my little three-toed sloth? Do you think there are almost -adult children out there stealing other people's dental appointments these days?
Has the health care industry sunk that low?

But being the ever loving, albeit some times over bearing mom that I am, I simply replied, "Sloth, they possess in that office enough dental records of your teeth to identify your burned beyond recognition corpse if they had to. Surely they will be able to know who you are while you're still whole and breathing."

To which he replied, "Okay, then. Thanks."

I swear, that kid couldn't identify sarcasm in a dictionary!

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Erin go Braugh(less)

Top of the Morning to all me Irish breathren this week! I've just one complaint. Our beloved (yet distinguished) Irish named town cancelled our Annual St Patrick's Day Parade this past weekend due to rain. Yep, it sure would have been a shame to have all OF us fightin' Irish packing the pubs that line Main Street to get out of the rain.

Sheesh. We're Irish, for the love of Christ. We don't need an excuse not to party. That's what jobs are for!

Friday, March 12, 2010

Picture Perfect

I'm an educated woman. Sort of. Two college degrees and a quite useless NYS Regents diploma (remember those?) tell me so. So, can anyone, for the love of Christ, please tell me why I am apparently too stupid to order on line photos from Wal*mart?

Last month, the mountain man and I went on a little vacation. And I remembered to bring my digital camera. And battery charger. And spare memory cards. And I actually took pictures. Lots of them. This in of itself is no great wonder. I have followed that same procedure for every vacation for the last six years or so. I then download all these wonderful pictures (usually chopping off at least one person's head) of a wonderful family (usually not mine) having a wonderful time (while I am usually yelling at my family to stop having fun so I can take pictures of them having fun, damnit!!!) on to my laptop.

And then I dream about the day when I will sort through all these precious memories and actually select a few photos to print and frame. Because, honestly? How often do people walk in your home, look at your dormant computer, and say, "Hey, what a fabulous action shot!" ? (And if your friends have actually walked into your home and said that in the past, you should probably get a lock for the bedroom door. Just sayin'.)

Anyway, this vacation was going to be different. Yes, I would still remember the digital camera. And battery charger. And spare memory cards. And actually take pictures. However, this year? This would be the year of the printed out vacation photos. I even spent 300,000 colonies to buy a photo album while we were still on vacation. (And, no, dear reader, I have no idea how many US dollars equals 300,000 colonies...I don't even know if South American currency requires a $$$$$ sign or not...)---but damnit, I was not about to waste either one dollar (or $2,000.00 --what the f*@k is a colonie worth, anyway?!) and not use that photo album!

So I take the camera. And the battery charger. And spare memory cards. And actually took pictures. And I downloaded them right into my lap top amongst thousands of other long lost vacation photos happily labeled Family vacation Summer 1998, Family Vacation Spring 1998, Family Vacation Summer 1999, Family Vacation Spring 1999 (you get the picture -ha ha- constant reader, don'tcha?)

Finally, weeks after our return (and probably the most definite immediate fall of the colonie following our cashing back to American dollars), I sat down to review the vacation photos. It turns out we have two old photo printers. One is currently missing a charger with the strangest looking receptacle I've ever seen---This printer was circa 1976. Printer number two was a Kodak Easy Share printer in which the camera actually sits atop the print receptacle and downloads the photos right off the camera. Unfortunately, the camera that fits that printer died an untimely death in 1994, thereby rendering the term "Easy Share" as useless as a one-legged pole dancer .
Not to be deterred, I went where the desperate (and very hilariously dressed) go in times of need...Wal*mart. (not in real life...only on line...I am terrified of visiting on one of those sites for a good laugh, only to find that that man wearing the high heeled boots and clashing vinyl shorts is my beloved mountain man...some people just can't put a good outfit together)

I uploaded the photos from my lap top to the Wal*mart site (I kinda felt obligated to do some kind of business with Wal*mart, ya know, since I spend so much time laughing at their various People of Wal*mart websites!). So now Wal*mart (and it's over abundance of highly skilled workers) have my precious vacation photos in my own Wal*mart web shop. And I choose 20 out of 150 or so pictures to print (This only took me ninety minutes to accomplish--obviously photography was not in my educational pedigree!). And Wal*mart, fully knowing of my fear to appear in their store in person, offers me the option to have the photos delivered to my home. I can only assume that those door greeters? Must need something to do on their lunch hour, and a quick trip to mysuestories manor with my vacation photos would certainly break up their day.
I know it would certainly break up mine!

So, I enter all my information: name, address, phone number. I pick a credit card (OK, easily done...which one of the little buggers in my wallet still has a few bucks available?). I enter the number and expiration date on the card, as well as the secretly contained 4 digit code on the back (this number, I assume, is so that if anyone steals my close to bursting into flames from over use credit card, the thief will not know enough to look on the back, revealing the secret code, and thus, unable to complete the theft of my identity. Trust me, I pity the fool who accomplishes that little feat. If there were any credit left available in this name, I'd have found it by now.)

I push the final complete transaction button, and.........I am back at the top of the page, where all my previously entered information has now disappeared. I re enter my name, address, phone number, credit card number, and the magical 4 digit code again. I hit enter again. I am brought to the top of the now blank page. Again. Because I am the eternal optimist/idiot, I fill in this information five more times. If this info is in fact going any where, I will have paid more than $600.00 for these frickin' pictures. Good times.

Two hours later, I am looking at the top of the page in which all of my information has once again mysteriously disappeared. And then it dawns on me. Wal*mart is on to me. They want to get me in the store to physically retrieve my photos. I have been beaten.

So, I ask the mountain man to carefully assess the way I am dressed. You know, in case some of those idiots with cameras are looking to update their photo site. He assures me I look non-Wal*mart photogenic.

I am not in the d@mned store five minutes when I hear a dreaded "click". I grab my photos, throw cash at the cashier (you know, the one with the scrunchy key chain who berates all the other cashiers 'cause she has senior-i-tay after 3 weeks on the job?)...and I make a mad dash for home.

Home and safe at last from the prying eyes of Wal*mart shoppers everywhere, I jump on the computer and rush to . And, dear reader, there, in all my glory, did I appear:
From walmart

I swear, some times I don't know if I am coming or going!!!!!!!!!

Next time? I'm sending the mountain man. In mis-matched heels and an outdated purse!