Had to run out for an errand, but didn’t want to get all fapitzed, so I asked my son if I looked too grungy to be seen in public.
Without looking up from the computer, he said, “You look fine.”
“You didn’t even look!” I said, laughing.
He thought quick and said, “You always look fine.”
Points for that one.
On my way out, I teased, “You’re training to be a husband, honey! Remember, at least pretend to glance up when I ask how my outfit looks next time!” Eye roll.
I get more eye rolls per capita than anyone I know. Means I’m doing my job.
Our governor here in New Jersey, Chris Christie, fired his Department of Education Commissioner, Bret Schundler, after it was revealed that incorrect data on our Race to the Top application cost the state a $400 million education grant.
But that’s not my beef.
Then, another wrinkle was added when Schundler told Christie that he had supplied the correct data during a presentation to federal reviewers once the error was apparent. Video of the meeting shows he had not.
But that’s not my beef.
After Schundler was asked by Christie’s operatives to resign, he asked if they would fire him instead so he could receive unemployment.
Now, that’s my beef.
□ Outright Lie
□ Golden Parachute
√ All of the Above
Wonder what’s next in the saga that is New Jersey politics?
That Les Stroud is one bad-ass shut-your-mouth! Love that crazy kanuck! I can’t get enough of the show, Survivorman, even though it doesn’t film anymore. All I’ve got is three measly seasons to watch at odd hours, like the infomercial wasteland in the middle of the night.
That dude deals with stinging scorpions, bears in the trees, lions on the prowl, yet he still takes the time to play the harmonica in his tent in the middle of nowhere.
I love the way he tells us the worst-case scenario for every situation. “If you don’t set up your grass hut just right, the results… could be deadly!”
Then he’ll switch to that freaky green night-cam. “Getting this fire started is the most important thing… because if I don’t… who knows what could happen!”
Dude, we get it.
One time, Les zoomed in his camera on a biting ant, took his multi-tool, and cut it in half. “That sucker’s still moving! This biting ant is vicious.” Excuse me! Who cut whom in half?
Les talks about things that don’t seem all that fierce, like what he called “feral sheep” (is this some Canadian phenomenon?) and an emu that can charge you and take you down. Someone’s been visited by the Exaggeration Fairy!
Now that Survivorman is over, why not have the opposite? Stress Loud, a guy who’s completely unprepared, has no survival training, and is tightly coiled so that he over-reacts to a lightning bug passing by! He’ll get out onto the tundra and ask the camera, “do you think there’s WiFi out here?” Discovery Channel, call me. I’ll give you my pitch.
My 13-year old dog doesn’t have the speed and stamina she used to, but one thing she does better than anybody: sleep-running.
Sheena climbs up onto the couch and settles in for a good, deep nap. In a matter of minutes, I can hear her engine starting… she makes little noises of exertion, and her feet start steppin’. After awhile, I might wake her up if it seems like it’s not a pleasant run, like maybe something is chasing her on her jog.
After a good sleep-run, Shee always wakes up looking for a treat. Perhaps she’s thinking, good thing I got my run in. How ’bout some ham now?
Oh, there is one thing she does better than sleep-running, I almost forgot: power-eating!
Growing up, my brothers and I would often mumble, prompting my mother to issue an edict: “Enunciate!” As a former English teacher, she would often throw Latin phrases at us. “Gallia est divisa en partes tres!” she’d bark at us. “If you know Latin, you know English.” All we really wanted to do was go to Chuck E. Cheese’s!
After my son was born, I found that I’d picked up some of my mom’s phrases and habits. I started to wonder if some of her outrageous theories based on numerology and Nostradamus had any merit (jury is still out on both). And then a few weeks ago, my son muttered a response when I asked what he wanted for dinner. Uh-oh. I feel it churning… it’s about to blow!
“Enunciate!” I said. He looked at me quizzically. “Speak clearly, honey. Say it as if you’ve got something to say.” Eye roll at two o’clock.
Later that day, I wandered into my son’s room to put away some clothes and I said under my breath, “wonder if these socks still fit?” and my son jabbed a finger into the air and said, “Enunciate!”
The one time he was actually listening to me. Hoist on my own petard!