Monday, May 16, 2011
In real life...
I'm pretty dang shy. Morbidly so.
Yesterday my son was invited to two birthday parties. One you've already heard about...Tripe, remember.
The other was at Chuck E Cheese. If you have kids and you've been there, then you know how crazy insane that place is for an adult. It's loud, it's dirty, the food is less than great, even the fountain sodas taste like the water them down. And I don't mean with carbonated water, I mean with tap water. And you KNOW that Chuck E is the last person to get reprimanded. "As your punishment for bad behavior you will be Chuck E this week".
So back to how I'm shy...I have no idea how to talk to new people when there isn't already a common friend around. My husband is friends with the kids dad. They work together, they see each other every day, thereby, they have a friendly relationship and know how to talk to each other and what to talk about. I, however, with my bad back and sciatic pain went to sit down at the party table, where I thought I might manage communication with the wife of the kids dad. I failed.
I tried to talk to her. I did. I think I'm just not interesting enough. Or maybe I had something on my face. At any rate, I was sitting at a table with another lady. She looked friendly enough, until she brought out her phone and texted the entire time, thereby locking me out of any possible communication with her because I'm too nice to interrupt her tapping away with her thumbs.
Why wasn't my husband around? Well, he was being a good daddy and following our kiddo around and helping him play the games that are too advanced for him.
When it was time for punished Chuck E to sing to all the party kids, the hubbies finally came around. Mine sat at the table with me. Texting lady was nice enough to find my kiddo a seat at the big table with all the other kids. (told you she looked nice - she just wasn't interested in conversation with me) Once hubby was near me and the comfort of him was washing over me I was finally able to talk. Mostly, though, it was to hubby's friend since he was standing right at our table blocking everything else that was going on around us. I can't blame him though, he was trying to get to the pizza, but some other lady was standing at that table oblivious to anyone's plight but Chuck E's. Maybe she had a crush on Chuck E.
Anyway, I just don't know how to talk to people. I mean, what do you say to start a conversation with a perfect stranger?... "Hi there! Nice weather we're having...do you drink? Do you mind if I get wasted at your kids 6th birthday party?"
Yesterday my son was invited to two birthday parties. One you've already heard about...Tripe, remember.
The other was at Chuck E Cheese. If you have kids and you've been there, then you know how crazy insane that place is for an adult. It's loud, it's dirty, the food is less than great, even the fountain sodas taste like the water them down. And I don't mean with carbonated water, I mean with tap water. And you KNOW that Chuck E is the last person to get reprimanded. "As your punishment for bad behavior you will be Chuck E this week".
So back to how I'm shy...I have no idea how to talk to new people when there isn't already a common friend around. My husband is friends with the kids dad. They work together, they see each other every day, thereby, they have a friendly relationship and know how to talk to each other and what to talk about. I, however, with my bad back and sciatic pain went to sit down at the party table, where I thought I might manage communication with the wife of the kids dad. I failed.
I tried to talk to her. I did. I think I'm just not interesting enough. Or maybe I had something on my face. At any rate, I was sitting at a table with another lady. She looked friendly enough, until she brought out her phone and texted the entire time, thereby locking me out of any possible communication with her because I'm too nice to interrupt her tapping away with her thumbs.
Why wasn't my husband around? Well, he was being a good daddy and following our kiddo around and helping him play the games that are too advanced for him.
When it was time for punished Chuck E to sing to all the party kids, the hubbies finally came around. Mine sat at the table with me. Texting lady was nice enough to find my kiddo a seat at the big table with all the other kids. (told you she looked nice - she just wasn't interested in conversation with me) Once hubby was near me and the comfort of him was washing over me I was finally able to talk. Mostly, though, it was to hubby's friend since he was standing right at our table blocking everything else that was going on around us. I can't blame him though, he was trying to get to the pizza, but some other lady was standing at that table oblivious to anyone's plight but Chuck E's. Maybe she had a crush on Chuck E.
Anyway, I just don't know how to talk to people. I mean, what do you say to start a conversation with a perfect stranger?... "Hi there! Nice weather we're having...do you drink? Do you mind if I get wasted at your kids 6th birthday party?"
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Thoughts on Tripe
Who ever thought that eating a stomach would be "Mmm, yummy"? Just like, who ever pulled a potato out of the ground and thought, "oh, I'll just take a bite out of this and it'll be great"?
I know that in some cultures people don't leave any waste, they eat EVERYTHING. Literally.
However, not having been raised that every single piece of an animal is yummy eats, I have no prior experience with things like tripe. Google it, you'll be surprised. I thought tripe was fish when I first heard it. Sounds like trout or pike or something...I know it's a stretch...but anyway...
I was at a birthday party. There was lots of food. I said, "Oooh, what's that?" she (doesn't matter who) said, "I think that is pork in a peanut sauce" I happen to love peanut sauce, and pork. So, I put a spoon of it on my plate. I went on to also put generals chicken and meatballs on my plate as well. When I turned around about 7 people jumped at me and attacked my plate and told me how "you don't want THAT!" I will never be able to tell you what they said it was actually called in their language (which I think may have been philippino, but I didn't ask) but every single one of them said that they don't eat it. Well, if you don't eat it then what is it doing at your kid's 6th birthday party!?
I had already put a piece of tripe in my mouth when the whole jumping me thing happened. It was lucky too. The tripe is really...um...chewy... kind of...rubbery, with not much flavor of its own. It really made me want to spit it out, but I was trying to be dignified about the whole thing. Finally, someone recognized that I already had a piece of it in my mouth and he gave me a napkin. I promptly spit it out as discreetly as possible into my napkin and threw it away, I did NOT want to carry ABC'd tripe around. It was bad enough that it was on my plate still...
So, of all the people telling me not to eat it, no one actually knew what it was. I got out my handy iphone (no I'm not a representative of Apple) and googled it (no, I'm not a representative of google either...)
Tripe is defined as follows:
-noun
I know that in some cultures people don't leave any waste, they eat EVERYTHING. Literally.
However, not having been raised that every single piece of an animal is yummy eats, I have no prior experience with things like tripe. Google it, you'll be surprised. I thought tripe was fish when I first heard it. Sounds like trout or pike or something...I know it's a stretch...but anyway...
I was at a birthday party. There was lots of food. I said, "Oooh, what's that?" she (doesn't matter who) said, "I think that is pork in a peanut sauce" I happen to love peanut sauce, and pork. So, I put a spoon of it on my plate. I went on to also put generals chicken and meatballs on my plate as well. When I turned around about 7 people jumped at me and attacked my plate and told me how "you don't want THAT!" I will never be able to tell you what they said it was actually called in their language (which I think may have been philippino, but I didn't ask) but every single one of them said that they don't eat it. Well, if you don't eat it then what is it doing at your kid's 6th birthday party!?
I had already put a piece of tripe in my mouth when the whole jumping me thing happened. It was lucky too. The tripe is really...um...chewy... kind of...rubbery, with not much flavor of its own. It really made me want to spit it out, but I was trying to be dignified about the whole thing. Finally, someone recognized that I already had a piece of it in my mouth and he gave me a napkin. I promptly spit it out as discreetly as possible into my napkin and threw it away, I did NOT want to carry ABC'd tripe around. It was bad enough that it was on my plate still...
So, of all the people telling me not to eat it, no one actually knew what it was. I got out my handy iphone (no I'm not a representative of Apple) and googled it (no, I'm not a representative of google either...)
Tripe is defined as follows:
-noun
Adult settings
I changed the settings on the blog to adult.
This means that you will see a notice of some kind when you go to my blog. I hope it doesn't annoy you, but I did it because I want people to be aware that I may or may not cuss.
Sometimes I may talk about nasty stuff, like little vomiting flies.
And if your stomach can't handle it, well, you've been warned.
This means that you will see a notice of some kind when you go to my blog. I hope it doesn't annoy you, but I did it because I want people to be aware that I may or may not cuss.
Sometimes I may talk about nasty stuff, like little vomiting flies.
And if your stomach can't handle it, well, you've been warned.
Thoughts on Flies
Flies are nasty little creatures...contrary to my previous post about being an entomologist, I don't really know that much about insects. I do know, however, that flies are nasty little creatures. I mean, really, they vomit all the time...geesh, you'd think they had a cure for that already!
Take some Pepto Bismol Flies!! (no I am not an affiliate of Pepto Bismol)
Our house has recently been invaded by flies...ya, gross, I know. You don't have to tell me. Fortunately, they have kept to the windows and doors with windows. I'm guessing that they see the outside and think they can get there, but alas there is glass in the way...it's a force field that keeps them from realizing their dreams of freedom to vomit on everything in the world.
In the last two days, all we've had to do is walk up to the window or door and casually fling a fly swatter and smoosh between three to nine flies. Yes, I said up to 9 flies at one time. It's ridiculously insane! Really, what the hell did we bring into the house that had little baby flies on it?! (I know that baby flies are actually maggots, but I can't really stand the thought of maggots, so I'd prefer just to say baby flies.)
I know that my knowledge of flies astounds you, but I promise that I am not an entomologist. Really.
Take some Pepto Bismol Flies!! (no I am not an affiliate of Pepto Bismol)
Our house has recently been invaded by flies...ya, gross, I know. You don't have to tell me. Fortunately, they have kept to the windows and doors with windows. I'm guessing that they see the outside and think they can get there, but alas there is glass in the way...it's a force field that keeps them from realizing their dreams of freedom to vomit on everything in the world.
In the last two days, all we've had to do is walk up to the window or door and casually fling a fly swatter and smoosh between three to nine flies. Yes, I said up to 9 flies at one time. It's ridiculously insane! Really, what the hell did we bring into the house that had little baby flies on it?! (I know that baby flies are actually maggots, but I can't really stand the thought of maggots, so I'd prefer just to say baby flies.)
I know that my knowledge of flies astounds you, but I promise that I am not an entomologist. Really.
thoughts on dreams
Sometimes, my dreams are so stinkin' real that when I wake up I think "Oh, Wow, I just went to Camelot..." or, "I really am a professional bug expert" (wait, aren't they called entomologists?)
Sometimes, my dreams are better than real life, I mean, all I do all day is sit around. Who wouldn't want to have zombie killing ninja as their day job?
Sometimes, my dreams are better than real life, I mean, all I do all day is sit around. Who wouldn't want to have zombie killing ninja as their day job?
Saturday, May 14, 2011
I'm not so anonymous as I tried to be
I read a lot of blogs...mostly all crafty ones. But I started reading Hyperbole and a half and O.M.G. !! (see what I did there...the period in between each letter means that I took my time saying Oh, My, God...It's more dramatic that way...trust me.) The chick that writes that blog, Allie, is so stinkin' hilarious. I read a couple of the newest posts then I went back all the way to the beginning and started reading in order from the very beginning. (that was a little redundant, wasn't it...oh, well.) I started thinking about how awesome it is that she can just tell it how she likes it or doesn't like it as it were. She's so awesome. I want to be like her when I grow up!
Anyway, back to how I'm not so anonymous. I guess I'm not so smart as I thought. I was setting up a new gmail account for the email address for this blog and I put my full name in the box where you are supposed to. I should have just put something completely random, but there you go...no so anonymous and not so smart. Hey, at least the blog isn't named super scientist genius. Then where would the credibility be?
So, look back often for more diatribes and delights, of me the not so anonymous blogger who is in love with hyperbole and a half.
Anyway, back to how I'm not so anonymous. I guess I'm not so smart as I thought. I was setting up a new gmail account for the email address for this blog and I put my full name in the box where you are supposed to. I should have just put something completely random, but there you go...no so anonymous and not so smart. Hey, at least the blog isn't named super scientist genius. Then where would the credibility be?
So, look back often for more diatribes and delights, of me the not so anonymous blogger who is in love with hyperbole and a half.
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