He's Magically Delicious

FYI? St. Patrick's Day is coming.

In case you didn't know.

Until I write again ...

Flea

My Morning at the Red Cross

WARNING: IF YOU ARE AT ALL SQUEAMISH ABOUT NEEDLES AND BLOOD, DO NOT READ ANY FARTHER.

I warned you all.

So I gave blood this morning. No, I'm not going to show photos of blood spurting everywhere. As far as I know, that never happens when people give blood. Doesn't happen to me. But I am going to encourage you to find your closest Red Cross donation center and set up an appointment for yourself. The reward? Other than saving a life, you get cookies when you're done! Woot!

First there's a book about 800 pages long that you're required to read. I lie. It took me about two minutes to go through the book. Have I been to Africa? Have I been to the UK? Do I have Mad Cow Disease? Do I have HIV? Growth hormones ever? Stuff. None of which applied to me.

Next they took me into a small room with a glass door and asked a hundred million questions. Things like, are you a female? Okay, just five or six questions, really. I hadn't had coffee yet. Took my pulse and blood pressure, pricked my finger, let me answer a computer questionnaire. Done.

Finally to the blood area. Oh yeah! Sit me in a big, comfy chair. Strap on a loose tourniquet, give me a squishy football to squeeze, find the vein:

... then swab. See?

Gross, huh? I thought she'd never finish swabbing. In fact, I asked if she sang the Happy Birthday song twice in her head while swabbing (like kids do when they brush their teeth?). The answer was no. Dang.

Then she got out the monster needle. I'm not supposed to show you this part, in case you were thinking of giving but needles scare you, but I'm going to anyway. It fascinates me.

Here it is, sucking up my blood:

After my pint was drawn, she took six vials of my blood, I assume for testing, to make sure I'm safe and whatever:

Here's the lovely Shamekia:

She looks like trouble, doesn't she? Like someone who'd be fun to hang out and get into mischief with.

Last but not least, the very best part of giving blood - the cookies! I am very, very sad to say that they no longer give out Little Debbie's Oatmeal Creme Pies. Breaks my heart. These are nearly as good, though:

And the me at the end? Exhausted. I'm going to take a nap!

Until I write again ...

Flea

Blood

So I was going to be a good girl and post a really exciting blurb about giving blood and how everyone should go do it. So? What are you waiting for? Go give blood already.

But my Hunny gave me his stupid cold. I'll be leaving in 15 minutes to have my veins drained. I'll take pictures. Yada yada yada. But I'm less than excited about leaving the house this morning, as much as I love my local vampires.

Stay tuned for photos, y'all. And go give blood.

Until I write again ...

Flea

Tired and Fat

Why am I so freakin' tired?

I have been a very bad girl. But! But. No, I've just been bad.

See, the doctor that I loved went crazy. She found my high thyroid antibodies and put me on armour thyroid, a natural prescription thyroid pill. Nearly three years ago. She also insisted, after I'd gotten off the ADHD meds, that I needed to be on something, so she kept trying till we got it right with the Adderall XR. She also checked my hormones and found my progesterone rock-bottom low. I've been on compounded progesterone cream for nearly three years.

Then, like I said, she went nuts. And left the clinic she was practicing at.

So last fall I wound up with a different doc at the same clinic. I liked her the first time I saw her. Then she stopped paying attention. Prescribed the wrong dose of something, then the wrong form (pill instead of cream). Didn't do the blood work I needed. Then, three months after she was my new doc, and a month after I resolved to say something or look for a new doc, she left the clinic, too.

So.

About the time my old doc left, I stopped taking the thyroid meds. Ran out of it, and there was a big controversy about the type I was taking, and ... well, it was just a mess. I'd stopped the ADD meds a couple of months before.

Since last summer I've gained back all the weight I didn't work to lose in the first place. Yuck.

I finally saw a new doc (who I don't like much - going to a different one next month) and am now on Synthroid, the synthetic version. This new doc did explain that the high thyroid antibodies mean I have Hashimoto's, the most common of thyroid diseases. She explained that where I've been is similar to the difference between HIV and AIDS. The high antibodies point to my having the disease, but the normal levels of other thyroid blood work have indicated that the disease is still dormant, not yet effecting me adversely.

Okay.

So I'm tired. Feeling icky. Feeling hormonal. Not sure what to do. Hoping to straighten everything out with the new-new-new doc soon. Fourth one in six months, but this time by choice.

Here's my concern, based on what I've cobbled together over time: the thyroid med is a stimulant, so I'm very hesitant to take another stimulant in the form of an ADD med. I went back to Strattera, but it wasn't working so well for me, and it's the only non-stimulant I know. A consistent resting heart rate over a hundred just doesn't set well with me. Also, the thyroid med is a basically a hormone, from what little I've read. I'm currently on the progesterone cream, which keeps me from going insane. I'm not sure exactly what that means.

If anyone out there has experienced information, I'd love to hear it. Please. Because so far I've gotten mixed messages, and I've taken myself off of drugs out of frustration, which can't be good. Gah. I appreciate you all. Really I do.

Until I write again ...

Flea

Funny Bone Monday

This week's topic is relevant for me. Unfortunately. I have a teen boy and a teen girl living under my roof. It hits too close to home. So all I can do is laugh, right? Y'all enjoy Funny Bone Monday, the dating version.

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My favorite type of girl was always one that would go out with me.
Twice.

I could tell she felt comfortable with me when she used my tie to wipe mustard off her mouth.

Dating is when you pretend you're someone you're not, to impress somebody you don't even know.

What men don't realize is how many women date just so they won't have to cook dinner.

I'd rather try on swimsuits in a well-lighted dressing room than to go on a blind date.

I only date so my friends won't feel sorry for me and try to fix me up with somebody.

This was gleaned from Dating Humor

*************************

Dating Ad Translations

Want to know what the person is REALLY like behind those "nice" descriptions in Singles Ads? Here are some translations.

DANDY LITTLE HOUSE KEEPER:
She has been married three times and kept all the houses

FINE CHARACTER
She's an ex-hooker

KNOWS HOW TO HANDLE MONEY:
She's a spend thrift and great at spending yours

STRONG FAMILY TIES:
She's a Mafia Princess

LOVES CHILDREN:
She's pregnant and needs a husband

WONDERFUL PERSONALITY:
She's fat

GREAT SENSE OF HUMOR:
She's fat and will laugh at anything you say

THE OUTDOOR TYPE:
She hunts, fishes, chews tobacco, just like the guys

READY TO SETTLE DOWN:
She's thirty-five, in a state of panic, and dying to marry

LIKES TO HAVE A GOOD TIME:
She gets drunk every time she goes out

LOTS OF FUN AT PARTIES:
Often makes an ass of herself

MATURE WOMAN:
She's at least thirty, but looks at least forty-five

HAS THE APPEARANCE OF A YOUNG SCHOOL GIRL:
She's at least thirty-three, but dresses like a teenager

CASUAL:
She dresses like a slob

DECORATED HER OWN PLACE:
Her apartment resembles a pig sty

A GREAT DANCER:
She's a Stripper

NOT OVERLY EMOTIONAL:
She only cries twenty-seven times a day

DOESN'T CHASE MEN:
She's more of a mousetrap or a black widow spider type

SELDOM DATES:
She's a lesbian who needs a male escort for something

UNDERSTANDS MEN:
She's been married and divorced four times

A GOOD SPORT:
She knows two hundred jokes & can drink you under the table

LOOKS AND DRESSES LIKE A MODEL:
She's five eleven and weighs seventy-three pounds

BEEN IN SHOW BUSINESS:
She's a former porn movie star

KNOWS A LOT OF INTERESTING PEOPLE:
None of whom would marry her

Relationship Jokes and Humor!

*************************We are SO adopting these for Maybelline!We are SO adopting these for Maybelline!Dad's Rules For Your BoyfriendRule One:

If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, becasue you're sure not picking anything up.

Rule Two:

You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.

Rule Three:

I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes to big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do no, infact come off during the course of you date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.

Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "Barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrrier, and I will kill you.

Rule Five:

It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my duaghter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is: "early".

Rule Six:

I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.

Rule Seven:

As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process than can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?

Rule Eight:

The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka - zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which features chan saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.

Rule Nine:

Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

Rule Ten:

Be afraid,. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveways you should exit the car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camoflaged face at the window is mine.

Three Tickets

The boyfriend said, "We're going to have a GREAT time Saturday. I've gotten three tickets for the big game." "Why do we need three ?" asked the girl. "They're for your Father, Mother, and kid sister." he replied with a sheepish grin. Funny Love Poems These are entries to a Washington Post competition asking for a two-line rhyme with the MOST romantic first line and the LEAST romantic second line: 1. My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife: Marrying you has screwed up my life. 2. I see your face when I am dreaming. That's why I always wake up screaming. 3. Kind, intelligent, loving and hot; This describes everything you are not. 4. I thought that I could love no other -- that is until I met your brother. 5. Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you. But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead, the sugar bowl's empty and so is your head. 6. I want to feel your sweet embrace; But don't take that paper bag off your face. 7. I love your smile, your face, and your eyes Darn, I'm good at telling lies! 8. My love, you take my breath away. What have you stepped in to smell this way? 9. My feelings for you no words can convey, Except for maybe 'Go away" 10. What inspired this amorous rhyme? Two parts vodka, one part lime.

Talking Carl

Y'all should all know about the iPhone LEGO photo app. If you don't, you weren't paying attention when I blogged about it a few weeks ago. Shame on you. And try it out, iPhone users. It's SO MUCH FUN.

But not as much fun as my new love. I, the Frugal Flea, paid a whole 99 cents for this new app (still had iTunes money left from my gift card in October). It's worth every cent, and then some.

Meet Talking Carl:

Isn't he darling? I love tickling his belly, talking to him, poking him in the eye. He's the best thing to happen to my phone EVER.

So if you own an iPhone, give Carl's belly a poke for me. Tell him hello. Because he repeats what you say in a funny voice.

Until I write again ...

Flea

The Mother of All Ear Worms

Y'all ever get an ear worm? A song you can't get out of your head no matter how hard you try? I hate that. I've had one stuck in my head for several weeks now. Every time I think it's gone, some one says something to but it back. For instance, last Sunday night (I do childcare at church on Sunday nights now), a girl held up a basketball and said she'd named it Beyonce.

It's in your head now, isn't it?

So a couple of days ago I'm perusing Want Not, a blog to save me money by the pretty, shiny Mir, and she got it stuck in my head AGAIN! So. Because this is the most adorable video I've seen in awhile, I'm passing it on to you. All the Scholar Ladies:

And because I love Pomplamoose, enjoy their version. I mean, it's stuck in your head anyway, right?

Until I write again ...

Flea

Burning Baby Animals, Part II

I got the coolest Valentine's Day gift ever. Ever. EVER.

Y'all are familiar with some of the baby animals I've been burning? I've been using a cheap ten dollar burning tool to burn baby animals. As much fun as that is, it's not quite satisfactory. Doesn't do the job as well as I want. So my sweet Hunny bought me a new burning tool this weekend. A fancy one. Not top of the line, mind you, but so much nicer than the other. With heat regulation, so I don't have to fry the little buggers to a crisp.

I'll show you photos, but first I have to show you how my Hunny upstaged me on his first attempt, before I even got to use my new toy. He went all soft on me and burned a flower. A pretty flower.

Beautiful.

Look what I've done with my new burner since it came home this weekend.

I like the baby elephant. It has personality. I like the quote. But I prefer this one better, as burnt baby animals go.

I don't have a quote for it, though. Anyone? Ideas?

Well, I'm off to burn another critter. Y'all have a good one.

Until I write again ...

Flea

The Deal

I saw this over at Cake Wrecks and about died laughing. Seriously. My Hunny had to do CPR. Happens all the time. I hope you enjoy it!

Until I write again ...

Flea

Funny Bone Monday

Happy I-totally-forgot-to-post-anything-for-Funny-Bone-Monday! Geez. Blame on the Valentine's Day Weekend. Blame it on my Valentine's Day gift. My sweet Hunny gave me a Cub wood burning unit, with two pens and three replaceable nibs. It ROCKS. We also went by the Tandy leather store. He and my mom got starter kits and will be taking classes. Do you KNOW how perfect leather is for burning?!? OMG. Awesomeness.

Without further ado (and my apologies for sending this into cyberspace so late), Funny Bone Monday, the theater edition.

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These I found at MadStage

Ten Reasons to Take an Improv Class:10. Liberate your inner child9. Enhance the way you make stuff up all the time.

8. Create characters to respond to telemarketers.

7. Try something legal for a change.

6. Develop your inherent shtick.

5. Fine tune the way you already dance around issues.

4. Take a risk with your clothes on.

3. Act out with guidance.

2. Sound cool saying: Can't meet tonight--got my improv class.

1. Learn how to network using props.

All of them. One to do it, and the rest to talk about how much better they could have done it.

How many actors does it take to change a light bulb?
None. Just complain to the director at notes.

How many actors does it take to change a light bulb?
None. Doesn't the stage manager do that?

How many actors does it take to change a light bulb?
Nobody knows. They can never find their light.

How many stage managers does it take to screw in a ...
Done.

How many stage managers does it take to change a light bulb?
I DON'T CARE!!! JUST DO IT!!!

How many stage managers does it take to change a light bulb?
None. Where's IATSE?

How many stage managers does it take to change a light bulb?
It's on my list... IT'S ON MY LIST...

How many assistant directors does it take to change a light bulb?
One. But he/she has to check with the director first to make sure he/she wants the bulb there.

How many directors does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Well...um...what do you think?

How many lighting techs does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Nothing happens on that @#$%ing side of the stage anyway!

How many designers does it take to change a light bulb?
Does it have to be a light bulb?

How many playwrights does it take to change a light bulb?
Change? Why does it have to change? No changes, it's perfect just the way it is.

How many directors does it take to change a light bulb?
None. Give a note to the stage manager to fix it!

How many stage managers does it take to change a light bulb?
None. Pull the technical director off of a set installation to deal with it.

How many technical directors does it take to change a light bulb?
None. Call the master electrician at home to fix it.

How many master electricians does it take to change a light bulb?
We don't change bulbs, only halogen lamps. It's a Props problem.

How many props masters does it take to change a light bulb?
Light bulb?! When did they even get a lamp?

How many theater critics does it take to change a light bulb?
All of them. One to be highly critical of the design elements, one to express contempt for the glow of the lamp, one to lambaste the interpretation of wattage used, one to observe how trite the use of a light bulb was, one to critique the performance of the bulb itself, one to recall superb light bulbs of past seasons and lament how this one fails to measure up, and all to join in the refrain reflecting on how they could build a better light bulb in their sleep.

How many theater students does it take to change a light bulb?
Uh, what's the deadline, 'cause I may need an extension.

How many audience members does it take to change a light bulb?
Three. One to do it, one child to cry, and one to say loudly, "ROSE, HE'S CHANGING THE LIGHT BULB."

How many interns does it take to change a light bulb?
It doesn't matter because you'll have to do it again anyway.

How many producers does it take to change a light bulb?
None. Why do we need another light bulb?

How many IATSE guys does it take to change a light bulb?
One, once he puts down the donut and coffee.

How many IATSE guys does it take to change a light bulb?
Twenty-five, with a minimum of four hours... you got a @!%#&!* problem with that?

How many lighting designers does it take to change a light bulb?
None. Where's my assistant?

How many high school theater students does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Two, if they can find a lamp big enough and figure out how to get inside it.

How many electricians does it take to change a light bulb?
Lamp! It's called a LAMP, you moron!

**************************

From the theater tech viewpoint:

-- All the world's a stage -- and I'm the stage manager.

-- If all the worlds a stage - when is curtain call?

-- Determining the sexual preference of dead playwrights, while politically incorrect and academically irrelevant, is big fun. -- The Reduced Shakespeare Co.

-- I don't do Mondays.

-- Those who would alter reality must first escape it.

-- And on the first day the lord said... ...Lx1, Go! and there was light!

-- Duct tape is like the Force. It has a light side, a dark side, and it holds the universe together...

-- I need some duck tape. My duck has a quack in it...

-- In theory there is no difference between theory and practice. In practice this is just not true.

-- Living in Hollywood is like living in a bowl of granola. What ain't fruits and nuts is flakes.

-- One only needs two tools in life: WD-40 to make things go, and duct tape to make them stop.

-- PPPPPP = proper planning prevents piss poor productions

-- PPPPPPP = Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance! (USMC ver.)

-- Show me a script that calls for no actors, dancers, musicians or artists; and, I will show you a techie's DREAM!

-- The classic struggle in Theatre: "The Show must go on" vs "This is stupid, I'm going home."

-- The more of a reason you have, the more important it is to beat something senseless with your crescent. (directors included)

-- We are agreed that your ideas are crazy. What we have yet to determine is whether your ideas are crazy enough to be true.

-- Where would God have been without techs?

From Quick Prayers and mottos

**************************

So you can keep all the roles straight:

Theatrical Structure:

Producer-

Leaps tall buildings in a single bound.

Is more powerful than a locomotive.

Is faster than a speeding bullet.

Walks on water.

Gives policy to God.

Director-

Leaps short buildings in a single bound.

Is more powerful than a switch engine.

Is just as fast as a speeding bullet.

Walks on water if the sea is calm.

Talks with God.

Playwright-

Leaps short buildings with a running start.

Is almost as powerful as a switch engine.

Is faster than a speeding BB.

Swims well.

Is occasionally addressed by God.

Actor-

Makes high marks on the wall when trying to leap buildings.

Is run over by locomotives.

Can sometimes handle a gun without inflicting self-injury.

Dog paddles.

Talks to animals.

Chorus Member-

Falls over doorsteps when trying to enter buildings.

Says "Look at the choo-choo."

Wets himself with a water pistol.

Plays in mud puddles.

Mumbles to himself.

Stage Manager-

Lifts buildings and walks under them.

Kicks locomotives off the track.

Catches speeding bullets in his teeth and eats them.

Freezes water with a single glance.

*IS* God.

These gems were found at Theater Jokes

**************************

Today's video is ... perfect for Funny Bone Monday!

Something I never think about, not being theater

Until I write again ...

Flea

Then and Now

I was looking for something last night and ran across a box of photos I've been meaning to scan for a couple of years now. Started looking through them. Pulled some to scan. Couldn't help myself. Never did find what I was looking for.

Since it's Saturday, and you're bored (you're here, aren't you?), I'm going to force you to look at family photos. Come back here! My kids were cute. Then. In Florida.

Maybelline then:

Probably just instructed to scowl for the camera

Having just shot RediWhip into her mouth

This drop kick dog kept bringing live moles and snakes in through the dog door

With our first Aussie, Clee-o

I made her this dress for her fifth birthday. She wore it clean out.

Maybelline and cousin Katie, the beautiful bride from last spring

Maybelline now:

See what happens when you only let your mother take your photo when you're being stupid? Heh.

Oatmeal Head then:

My, what big eyes you have!

Dapper in his Christmas suit

I was always making him these hats - he loved them

I think this was his first pair of glasses

Oatmeal Head now:

Goober

Red Rocks then:

Ornery cuss

This face will melt a mama's heart

Mama made the vest and bow tie

Mama's little stinker

Red Rocks now:

Some are just a mix:

Relaxing on a sunny Florida day

They loved this little dune buggy

Nothing like a good saber fight

That was a good Christmas

I love photos. I need to finish that scanning job. Y'all have a great weekend!

Until I write again ...

Flea

News on the home front! Kinda.

Oatmeal Head has been having severe stomach pain for a week and a half. Last week it was severe. This week hasn't been so bad, and he's pretty much stopped eating to avoid the pain. Not good. He's six feet tall and weighs less than 150 pounds. Boy needs to eat.

Took him to the doc yesterday to figure this out. She thinks he has an ulcer. She asks him what he's stressed about. ("Nothing") Then tells him ulcers are caused by a certain bacteria in the stomach. He asks how on earth bacteria and stress are related to cause an ulcer. She explains that the bacteria (h. pylori) thrives in acid and that stress causes acid. The lab took a vial of his blood to check.

I'm just now putting pieces together. Oatmeal Head has always preferred soft and mild foods. Till the last year, when it's all "Bring on the Tabasco!" He's one of the most laid back people you'd want to meet - as am I - and we both bury our stress. I can see it being an ulcer.

The other option seems to be constipation. They took an x-ray of his stomach. He was pretty psyched about that. That could be it, as it's common with teenagers and stomach pain, but we think not.

So he starts on Prilosec this morning. We'll see. Fifteen. And an ulcer. Really?

Until I write again ...

Flea

A Day Off

If you'll excuse me, I think I'll take the day off. I mean, I'm going to work, doctor visits, then a meeting for parents of track students. Oatmeal Head wants to be fast.

So instead of posting today, I'm sending in a sub. Weird Al.

Until I write again ...

Flea

Strays

You know how when your kids get into school and start making friends, they bring extra children home with them? If your kids are anything like mine, they want them to be part of the family and move into their rooms. Eat dinner. Spend the night. A house full of stray kids before you know it.

I don't mind that so much. I kinda like it.

It's when the animals start doing that very same thing that I have a wee problem. Lou the Loud has invited friends from the neighborhood.

I opened the door earlier this week, to let Lou in (he roams at night, carousing), and another cat came to the door, expecting to be let in. That cat above. Just waltzed right up to the door. I know he looks a lot like Lou, but he has long hair. My dogs quickly put him in his place.

So I stepped outside to say hello and make sure the cute kitty wasn't malnourished. It took a bit of petting to determine that, no, I couldn't feel its ribs. And yes, it's very cute. I'm sure it belongs to a neighbor.

Then I heard it. Hissing and growling in the bushes. Lou brought home TWO friends! Bad cat!

What on earth? There's not enough peanut butter and milk for my children's friends AND Lou's friends. Suggestions are always welcome, people.

Until I write again ...

Flea

P.S. My Hunny has taken matters into his own hands. Seems the smell of cat pee on the front stoop was a bit much. He unleashed the hounds. When that didn't work (I swear, that orange one kept trying to get in), he broke out the broom. Problem solved.

General Updates

So the Saints won the Super Bowl.

Red Rocks made the decision to take some time off from Scouts. It was a tough decision. He was up all night throwing up and I think that's why. He's home today.

Maybelline's grades are consistently better so far this semester. She seems to be grasping Latin better, seeing her need for it.

Oatmeal Head is finally back to school. Stomach still not right, but not spending the entire night in pain. I think he's afraid to eat. He'll be okay.

My Hunny built for me a work bench to use to burn my baby animals. He's so sweet. Wanna see it? I knew you would. The photos aren't the best, though.

My burning, it's not so great. I mean, some of it I like. Some of it I don't. You'll know which ones I don't, I'm thinkin'.

Covered up the bunny snot. Yeah.

Burnt baby giraffe in the morning.

Butterfly's done. I think I might have a home for it.

The pig is still my favorite. Hands down. Anyone wanna spend 35 bucks on burnt pig?

So. The Saints won the Super Bowl. Somebody pinch me.

Until I write again ...

Flea

Funny Bone Monday

Welcome to Funny Bone Monday, the work edition! My sweet Hunny sent me the email from work which triggered today's post. OMG. It made me laugh so hard. And I thought, given that FBM is all about brightening your first day of the work week, how much more appropriate could the topic be? Enjoy!

********************

I got this email today.

1. Collect some dead flies from the office windowsills.

2. Put them in the sun to dry for one hour

3. Once they are dry, pick up a pencil and paper… Let your imagination run free

I double dog dare you to try this at work.

********************

How to tell when you're getting fired

...When your boss stops asking "How are the kids" and start avoiding eye contact with you in the hallways.

When strange people wearing business attire and carrying resume type portfolios come into your office stating they have an appointment to see your boss.

When your boss's assistant or secretary starts hinting to you about new jobs you might like in the newspaper.

When your boss starts sending you random memos all of a sudden about petty things they never seemed to care about before.

When everyone gets new office computers except you.

When you come into work one day and your network password seems to be expired for no reason.

When everyone in your office gets scheduled to go to that new software training except you.

When your boss starts sharing out portions of your work responsibilities to other employees.

When your boss ask you to come in their office 15 minutes before it's time to go home.

When you come back from lunch to find unusual empty boxes near your desk.

When your boss starts sending you random memos all of a sudden about petty things they never seemed to care about before. Oh! I wrote that one already.

Misery

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This one's for you. You know who you are.

Three Commandments of Playing Hooky

Thou shalt play hooky from work because:

1. It is polite. Sick leave and vacation are part of your benefits package; you are supposed to use them. Do you think your employer gives them to you because he thinks you’re a great person? No. He gives them to you because you earned them and he knows you are going to take them. To report to work every single day, without using any of your time off, is downright rude.

2. It keeps people employed. Just imagine what would happen if every employee came to work every day of every year. What would happen to the people who process the leave forms and keep your employment records? I’ll tell you what: They’d lose their jobs. And what about the companies who sell the leave forms your company uses? Yep, they’d go right out of business. The only way to protect the country’s economy, then, is to play hooky.

3. It is good for your health. On the outside, it may appear that people who never miss work are healthy and well-adjusted. Well, it’s like your mother always told you, you can’t judge a book by its cover. Never taking time off, they are constantly thinking about work, stressing over deadlines, worrying about presentations, trying to find a pair of socks that match or pantyhose that don’t have runs in them. They develop ulcers and irritable bowel syndrome. They have high blood pressure and migraines. Basically, they are human time bombs just waiting to explode. If only they had enough sense to take a few days off ...

These were at hooky book

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These office truisms brought to you courtesy of Office Jokes and Humor

When you don't know what to do, walk fast and look worried.

You will always get the greatest recognition for the job you least like.

No one gets sick on Wednesdays.

The longer the title, the less important the job.

Machines that have broken down will work perfectly when the repairman arrives.

An "acceptable" level of employment means that the government economist to whom it is acceptable still has a job.

Once a job is fouled up, anything done to improve it makes it worse.

All vacations and holidays create problems, except for one's own.

Success is just a matter of luck, just ask any failure.

Anyone can do any amount of work provided it isn't the work he is supposed to be doing.

Important letters that contain no errors will develop errors in the mail.

The last person that quit or was fired will be the one held responsible for everything that goes wrong - until the next person quits or is fired.

There is never enough time to do it right the first time, but there is always enough time to do it over.

The more pretentious a corporate name, the smaller the organization. (For instance, The Murphy Center for Codification of Human and Organizational Law, contrasted to IBM, GM, AT&T ...).

If you are good, you will be assigned all the work. If you are really good, you will get out of it.

You are always doing something marginal when the boss drops by your desk.

People are always available for work in the past tense.

If it wasn't for the last minute, nothing would get done.

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Today's video - the first one, at least - I found humorous just watching him dance. Yes, dance.

Until I write again ...

Flea